


Half Agony, Half Hope

by meggles830



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Choices, Consequences, Engagement, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Marriage Proposal, Pregnancy Scares, Romance, Sexy Times, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-18 08:46:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 62,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4699706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meggles830/pseuds/meggles830
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I am half agony, half hope." Persuasion</p><p>Pregnancy scare causes Jack and Phryne to begin asking some very major questions and confront big issues in their relationship and deal with their pasts in unexpected ways. Are they able to come to mutually satisfying terms or are they just too different from each other to make a life together work? </p><p>Basically in my AU from my other story (Love Letter's series), about 6 months after they have been dating (right around Dot and Hugh's one year anniversary). </p><p>Lots of fluff and drama and Jack being the greatest man ever... and some smut, I'm sure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I half in agony, half in hope" Jane Austen
> 
> Pregnancy scare brings up awful memories for Phryne, from her days in Paris with DuBois. How will she and Jack handle this latest crisis?

Half in Agony, Half in Hope

“Phryne, are you sure you’re alright? You are being very quiet tonight, I’ve never seen you so reserved when I’ve asked you for help on a case. I could really use your help in figuring out how they managed to crack this particular safe… its supposed to be impossible. I just feel like you aren’t even listening to me.”

“What? Oh, I’m sorry Jack, I guess I am a bit distracted. What was it that happened? They managed to break into a Diebold?” She was sitting in her parlour, on her favorite spot in the bay window, staring outside, her knees folded up to chest and she was fiddling with her necklace, something she rarely did. Usually Phryne Fisher could focus on four things at one time, and today she was seemingly unable to focus on one.

“Phryne, this is the third time I’ve told you the details! Seriously, can you please tell me what is going on? You’re starting to really worry me.” He was sitting in the chair right next to her now, he pulled her hand away from her necklace and was looking into her eyes with more than just a little concern showing through in his eyes. He lowered his voice, not because there were people around who he didn’t want to overhear, but because he was trying to comfort her and coax her into talking to him.

She met his gaze for a moment only, she looked away as quickly as she could, but in that moment he saw fear in her eyes, fear and confusion. Now his heart was starting to beat considerably faster, trying to think to anything that might be upsetting her or worrying her like this. He didn’t think she had heard bad news from home, or from Jane’s school; her father had been blessedly quiet for the last six months, he and Phryne’s mother had decided to take some time to go visit America, see the sights there, and to his knowledge it had been incident free. Had he forgotten something? Her birthday wasn’t for another two months, and since it was right around Christmas, he knew that he hadn’t forgotten a holiday. 

“Jack, I don’t know how to talk about this, I really don’t. I know that I need to talk about it, that I can’t make any decisions on my own, but I just don’t honestly know how you’re going to feel-- hell, I don’t even know how I feel; and I’m not used to not knowing my own mind or heart and I’m so scared that when I tell you it’s just going to ruin everything between us that we love so much! Dammit all!” Was she crying?

There was absolutely no humor or joy in his voice at this point, not even exasperation, it was only terror that something was horribly wrong…

“Phryne, please! You have to tell me what is going on right now before I have a heart attack or a stroke! You have me seriously terrified at the moment, I have no idea what is wrong and I’m scared! You should know that you can tell me absolutely anything. Is it me? Are you… are you unhappy? You aren’t trying to… I mean, I thought we are very much in love and you were happy.Have I been neglectful or unkind in anyway? Are you dissatisfied with our relationship?” Phryne gulped, feeling rotten she could give him the idea that this was in any way a problem with him!

“Oh Jack! No, it’s not that at all! But I’m worried that when I tell you…”

“For the love of God, Woman, please tell me what the fuck is going on!”

“I may be pregnant.”

He looked at her. His mouth hanging open and his eyes weren’t blinking. In fact, he wasn’t moving a single muscle; it was as though her words had completely frozen him in time, instantly. He felt like he had been hit by a wall of bricks, this was so out of left field he didn’t even know how to possibly process it. He just sat there, staring, unblinking, trying to wrap his head around her announcement. After what felt to Phryne like an eternity, he cleared his throat, licking his lips and tried to speak. 

“You might be? Forgive me, but what, exactly,do you mean by that? Have you been to a doctor?” She nodded. 

“Today. I went to see Mac. I haven’t had my courses in about 6 weeks and I was feeling a bit nauseous the last few days, so, when I looked at my calendar and realized how long it had been… I mean, sometimes I miss a month here or there, it never worried me in the past, but then… I don’t know, I got a bit suspicious and I called Mac and she is performing the test, so I’ll know in two days whether the rabbit lives or not.”

Jack nodded, as stoically as possible right now.He really wasn’t entirely sure what the testing process was like, he’d never had to deal with it in the past. He had generally understood that a rabbit was usually involved and if the rabbit died, she was with child. He hadn’t given it too much thought, he assumed that women just “knew”, wasn’t it supposed to be some kind of instinct that soon-to-be mothers had? 

His mind was spinning. He knew he had to think before he spoke, he needed to tread very carefully here, but he wasn’t at all sure how to proceed. He gulped, hard and uncomfortably. 

“Do you… do you know what you want to do if you are?” That was one of the most difficult questions he had ever uttered in his life. He was trying very hard to not get pushy or excited or upset until she told him what she wanted-- he was trying to not feel anything at all yet. She was a modern woman, he had always understood this to be a “modern” relationship, although at some points he hadn’t exactly known what that meant. He knew that she engaged in the use of family planning devices that were reasonably effective, something along the lines of 85% and he would sometimes use other methods or devices himself… although neither of them enjoyed the alternatives nearly as much, but they had ALWAYS taken precautions, always. 

“I don’t know.” Phryne’s voice was very quiet, she looked so lost right now, it was nothing like her usual demeanor. “I suppose, I always assumed in the past that if I did ever get pregnant, I would simply find a discreet doctor to help me terminate.” That was, more or less, what Jack had suspected, but it still made something in him sink to the pit of his stomach and he had to gulp down a bit of air when he heard it-- it was a bit like being punched in the gut, he had tried to be prepared for that possibility from the first time he went to bed with her. “But...”

But? He looked up, trying to read her face.

“But, I think that if I was CERTAIN that is what I wanted to do right now, well, I’m not sure I would have told you. At least, not like this, not right now. I don’t think I’d feel so confused or scared if I KNEW that was what I wanted. I just… I don’t know. I honestly can’t imagine what would happen if I did that and you hated me and could never speak to me again-- that would very possibly kill me. But I also can’t imagine how you would feel at the idea of being trapped by this… baby.” It was the first time she had actually uttered the word. In her head, she had referred to it as a “situation” or “fetus” or even “pregnancy”... but this was the first time she was giving it any personification through the label of “baby”. She continued on, absolutely terrified.

“Because you know, no matter what I decide, you don’t have to be trapped, you aren’t stuck with me, or with the child-- I never want you to feel that way. If I chose to keep this child you wouldn’t owe me anything, or the child anything, it would be your choice entirely.”. 

“Are you absolutely insane, Woman?” He was having trouble NOT grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her, he was trying so hard to not yell and scream at her. Good God was she a stubborn and exasperating creature. 

That made her stop in her tracks. 

“Jack?” Wasn’t she being so thoughtful and generous to let him know that just as he was allowing her the space to determine what she would do with her own body, what he did with his heart was still his decision alone. She continued, “Well, of course it would be ideal if you wanted to be involved in the child’s life, should I choose to have it. But I also understand what it could mean for you personally, or even professionally, if you were known to have a bastard child and some Little Bit’ on the side. I understand how incredibly difficult that could be for you-- just as I understand that simply trying to cover up a child through some sort of rushed, shotgun wedding (as I believe they say in America) is not a particularly appealing course of action to either of us. Just none of this is what I was expecting, and I know that when I chose to… engage in certain behaviors with you, this was of course always a possibility. But I just never thought that I would feel so… I don’t know. And of course this is not particularly fair to you at all, sitting there, waiting for me to make up my mind and being forced to simply deal with whatever decision I make, and I somehow feel like either way I decide could actually just ruin everything wonderful between us and how happy I have been these last six months with you!”

This was maybe the most insane speech she had made during the entirety of their acquaintance.Jack was clueless as to how to feel or what to say next in this situation! He had known for quite sometime now that Phryne Fisher was likely to be the death of him, whether it be from her questionable actions in their investigations, or her sense of justice, fairness, honesty and love of adventure-- things that almost gave him heart attacks on a daily basis-- only magnified since they had become involved. So, without knowing what else to do in this situation, he simply grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to him as forcefully as he could. His mouth was on hers, his tongue pushing her mouth open, fighting against hers, his hands roaming up and down her sides, trying to remind her, without any words, how much she meant to him, how vital she was to his life and happiness and how he wished for nothing in the world so much as her happiness. His hands were in her hair now, he was stroking her head, her face, and when he finally came up for air, he could see that her bottom lip was particularly swollen from his efforts-- he must have a significant amount of smeared lipstick on his own face, but that was just fine with him. 

“In what universe or parallel reality do you think I ever would or even COULD feel stuck here? With you? With OUR child? Phryne, we have been together quite some time at this point! Do you think that there has ever been a moment that I have been with you and not counted myself as the luckiest bastard to ever live on this earth? Do you think I would feel any less that way if you actually told me that there was going to be a miniature Phryne Fisher running around at my feet, calling me Da? I don’t want to push you, I will not push you, but this isn’t a decision I can make for you.” He breathed in deeply, not knowing exactly what to say, but he had to get this much more difficult part out before he lost his nerve. 

“I DON’T know how I would feel if you told me you were going to end a pregnancy. If you chose to do that, I honestly don’t know WHAT I would feel. But I know, absolutely, that you can’t do this only for me. I’m positive of that fact-- taking either action only to make me happy or keep me “free”, as though I think of myself that way right now.” She looked like she was actually going to pick a fight over him saying that last part, but he put his hand over her mouth, needing to finish with what he had to say. “Yes, I always expected to have children. That didn’t work out with Rosie, and I met you and I stopped worrying about anything other than the happiness I experience, the incredible joy that comes from being with you, and I know that I could not love you nearly as much if you were ever to deny who you are. Whatever that may mean for us, right now, I want you to think about you-- The Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher. What do you want?”

What she wanted was to go back in time and avoid this situation entirely. Although, no, wait, that wasn’t true… there wasn’t a single time they had been together that she would take back. Nor did she imagine this would really encourage celibacy moving forward-- resisting Jack’s touch and embrace did not actually seem like honestly viable or realistic choices. 

“Phryne, can I ask… its a rather personal question, I know, but…”

“I think that between what we did in Aunt P’s garden last week and this particular conversation, we are mostly beyond such considerations, Jack.” Jack did have to blush at the memory of him and Phryne sneaking off at Mrs. Stanley’s Garden Party, from what he had heard since, some kind of pack of larger dogs was being blamed for the trampled roses in the south garden. 

“Have you ever-- I mean, have you never, in the past, procured a… a discrete doctor before?” She knew that was probably a perfectly fair question to be asked, and she supposed it was understandable that he thought maybe she had been in this situation before. But right now, she had enough on her mind that she was trying to sort through and she had dropped a pretty massive bomb on Jack in the last twenty minutes… she didn’t know if she had the emotional fortitude to continue down that particular rabbit hole with him, not at the moment. 

“For your information, no, I have never needed the service before.” She looked up at him and realized she had not answered that question well, she had been too specific. He was something of a bloodhound when he got on the scent and he wasn’t going to let this go. Damn, why did he have to be so naturally adept at detection?  
“I can’t tell you what to do. I mean, neither of us has ever been pregnant, it seems wrong for me to judge you or dictate your actions regarding your body. Neither of us have any idea what it would be like, do we? It could be so incredibly awful and painful and dangerous, couldn’t it?” He was being sincere, she knew he would genuinely be concerned about her health and well being… but he was still interrogating her, she knew when she was being worked.Did she have to go into this now? Really? 

Phryne lowered her eyes, not able to meet his gaze, she still looked terrified, but this wasn’t the same as her anxiety in telling him about her situation… possible situation. This was true fear. The detective in Jack felt something prickle at the back of his brain. 

“Phryne?”

“That’s not entirely accurate, Jack.” Jack thought he could feel himself turning green, he felt sick to his stomach and a little bit as though he was going pass out. While he had worked hard to come to terms with how many men there may have been in her past, he was not at all prepared to hear that one of them had actually fathered a child with her. And what exactly, had she chosen to do about it? It was possible that was the most difficult part for him to think about! He looked at her and could see her eyes were watery, her lips trembling. She took a deep breath, this was probably the last part of herself she had not shared with Jack (in fact, almost no one had ever been privy to this story, other than Mac or Madame Sarcelle). That fact had to change-- if the two of them were going to go forward in any way, Jack had to know the truth-- the full truth. 

“I’m not actually sure I can hear this right now, Phryne.” The pain in his voice, both anticipated AND realized, was unmistakable. 

“No, Jack. Look, I don’t want to think about this or talk about this at all-- maybe even less than you want to! But I think its time I finally told you, that I finally talk about it with someone.” She stood up to pour herself a glass of whiskey, and taking pity on the look on Jack’s face, poured him a generous one as well. She returned to the chaise to sit next to him, handing him his glass, finally ready to talk; well, as ready as she was ever likely to be.

“I was pregnant, once. It was not planned-- not even close. Unfortunately, the man I was with didn’t always--” Was there a delicate way to say this? “He did not always give me a choice in the matter of whether or not we would… Obviously this made any precautions I could take beforehand irrelevant.” She was clearly uncomfortable, he felt truly terrible now that he had pushed, especially as he was starting to get a horrible premonition of the kind of story she was about to tell him. She was sipping her whiskey, he found himself throwing back half the glass like a shot, this was going to be incredibly difficult to hear, and now he couldn’t believe he was making her tell it. 

“You are a brilliant detective, Jack, I’m sure you have put together some of the pieces already about my past with Monsieur DuBois, you’ve most likely pieced together what that relationship was like. I don’t know that I will ever really understand why I allowed him to treat me that way… Perhaps it was from how I’d seen my father and mother growing up; maybe it was guilt from being left alive when Janey wasn’t, when so many of the boys I grew up with had died on the battlefields of France and Italy.” Her voice trailed off, she was thinking, looking out the window, but not truly focusing on anything in her eyeline.

“But, I have no real explanation, it doesn’t even make sense to me, looking back, it seems like a completely different person, not me at all. I do remember that he was brilliant.His paintings, when he chose to paint, rather than spending all of his time drinking absinthe, were incredibly modern and post-impressionist with a degree of emotion and sensuality that was beyond genius. But he was jealous, a possessive egomaniac. If I even looked at another man or complimented another artist, he would fly off the handle and beat me; sometimes with his bare hands, sometimes with his belt…” Jack was sure that he would be sick all over the room. His knuckles were a ghostly white as, with one hand he gripped the arm of the chair he was in, while downing the rest of the whiskey in his other. Phryne had been right, he did not want to hear this; but he was trying to trust that there was a reason that she needed to tell him. 

“Twice he tried to strangle me with his hands. The last time it happened was the last time he ever touched me, in any way at all. Only a few days earlier I had begun to suspect that I was pregnant. As absolutely mad as it sounds now, at the time I still believed so honestly that this was love, I found the idea of giving up his baby to be unthinkable. But that night, we were out in Pigalle, at a bar we frequently met other artists and would talk and dance and smoke and drink, all together. I ran into someone I had served with in my ambulance unit, a man from the Ukraine. We spoke, briefly, in Russian, and Rene became convinced that we were brazenly sharing words of undying love and devotion with each other, in a language he did not understand. He had been drinking all day and was angry. When we returned to our flat he began yelling; I tried desperately to brace myself for the inevitable attack and it was particularly violent and rough attack.” She was starting to speak more quietly, still unable to look Jack in the eye; she found herself having to focus on the knot in the tree trunk in her yard that she could see from her seat, looking out the parlour window. She finished her whiskey and stood to pour herself another. 

“I kept telling Rene that he was wrong-- we had actually been speaking about the comrade’s wife and two lovely children back home. He simply wouldn’t believe me. That night he was more brutal than he had ever been. He beat me with his belt, and then, with his bare hands he tried to strangle me until I passed out.” Her hands were gently tracing the imaginary scars from his hands along her throat. “And then he… while I was passed out he…” She couldn’t finish what she was saying. She felt her body go rigid and tight, shaking as she remembered how it had felt, lying there in the flat, on the rough, bare wood floor, her clothes having been mostly ripped off her body, her skin exposed in the filthy, cold and damp room. She woke the next morning and was so cold; she was black and blue all over, her throat in agonizing pain when she tried to swallow or speak. 

As she pulled herself up to sit, she looked around the room to see the mess that had been created the evening before. Furniture was tipped over, broken glass was on the floor, and Rene was gone. Pulling her knees into her chest, bruised but scratched and mostly naked, she looked around her. If she was pregnant, how could she possibly allow a child to be raised anywhere near this man? Her father had been a violently abusive drunk, sure, but he was a fluffy kitten compared to Rene. Suddenly, she had no thought of anything but the possibility of this unborn child, and that was when she knew she had to move quickly. Returning to her conversation with Jack, she continued. 

“In that moment, that one moment the next morning, I knew that if I was actually pregnant, I could never expose that child to this man. I packed up the few things I owned, took the few franks we had in the apartment-- he never liked to leave me with much money. Then, I spent the next three days trying to get out of France and soon found my way to London, and to Mac. But by the time I got to her, I had already begun to… I had lost the baby.” At this point, tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

But this was not the story that Jack had been expecting. He looked up at her, while she looked as though she was in a trance, almost as if she was hypnotized and experiencing it all over again. Every ugly moment, every single time that man had touched her, every drop of blood from the miscarriage, it was as though he could see it in front of him. He tasted salt and realized that he was crying as well, quietly, for everything she had been through. Then, no longer finding a light cry to be helpful, she began sobbing. Unable to control herself, she was doubled over, shuddering from the powerful, racking cries, trying to fight for air between sobs. Jack dropped his empty glass and it landed on the thick carpeted floor as he moved to hold her. 

Sometimes she made it easy to forget how much she had been through in her life. Her childhood had been anything but carefree and happy. Between her abusive father, her extreme poverty in the worst slums of Collingwood, the tension in her parents’ marriage, and then the disappearance of her sister Janey, she had been through more in the first 10 years of her life than most people ever experience in 100. Then it was the war where she fought death as a nurse, watching thousands of young men snuffed out in the prime of their lives. And, somehow, she had convinced herself that love was cruel; love was domineering and demanding; being commanded and beaten were actually proof of sincere affection. Was it any wonder that she had closed herself off from experiencing love, true love, again for such a very long time?

Jack pulled her to him, he held her as tightly as he could. He wanted so badly to find a way to rescue her, to go back into her past and fix all of those terrible wrongs and abuses. He wanted to show her that she was the most unbelievably warm, fearless and loving woman who had ever been on this planet and that she had improved the lives of practically everyone she had met since that worthless excuse of a man had received his due. But they both sat there, silently throughout the next hour; both of them devastated and wishing that they could change the past, neither knowing what the future held, but somehow feeling comforted that at least neither would be facing it alone.


	2. The Pure and Simple Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The truth is rarely pure and never simple.” Oscar Wilde
> 
> Jack finally gets to get a few things off his chest. 
> 
> I really hope this reads true to others, because my fear in a Phrack relationship would be that she is SO in charge that he never really gets what he wants, I think that while he's in love with her and clearly an accommodating gentleman, he is still "a serious man".

All Phryne could hear at the dinner table was the sound of their utensils hitting the plates and the clinking of their glasses as they lifted them and returned them to the table. It was so quiet in the dining room that she could hear the grandfather clock that stood in the hallway and the sounds of Mr. Butler doing dishes in the kitchen. Ever since the her complete and total meltdown in front of Jack that afternoon, their conversation had been strained to say the least. Mr. B certainly had no knowledge of what was going on, but he could easily see that all was not well in Paradise for these two lovers. It was times like these that tested the true professionalism and quality of a great Butler; he couldn’t overtly interfere, that would be completely inappropriate, but his fondness for Miss Fisher and her Inspector made times like this very difficult to sit back quietly and pretend indifference. 

As they finished picking at their desserts, a particularly light mousse aux chocolate with coffee, Phryne seemed to finally lose her patience. With a great sigh she finally tossed her spoon down on the table, “Alright Jack, are we really going to try and pretend…” frustrated, she didn’t even know how to finish that sentence. She reached her hand out to his, across the table. “I know that you’ve had quite a few shocks today, I’m so sorry for that. I’m sorry, it isn’t often that I’m caught so off guard, and, I don’t know, perhaps it is true, I really am… you know… I swear I don’t believe I have ever felt so emotionally charged or insane in my entire life.” Jack had to smile at that, he generally thought she came off as particularly emotional, headstrong and somewhat insane, so if she was admitting to it, he had to wonder what that meant. 

“I know that this is all a major surprise to you. I’m sure it isn’t exactly what you were hoping to hear today when you came to see me for help about this case. And, if I’m being honest, your reaction has me thinking that maybe this has really all been madness and the obvious choice is to simply… eliminate the problem?” 

She was officially the most provoking woman he had ever imagined could exist… there were times, since he had come to know her, when he had suddenly come to almost understand the motivations for crimes of passion! He was frustrated, that was certain, but he was also becoming much angrier by the millisecond. 

“Phryne! Are you kidding me with this? Right now I’m so angry with you that I just don’t even know what do about it!”

She looked shocked and confused. “Jack?”

“Phryne, I am trying to be understanding, I am trying to give you the space that you need, so you can figure out what you want to do, because I know that it doesn’t really matter what I want! But there are so many times that I can’t help but notice how often its most important what you want or don’t want. You aren’t the marrying kind, so I avoid that conversation; you never saw the appeal of children, so I am happy to enjoy you without the possibility of offspring-- admittedly an idea I have come to accept since far before you came along. But at some point, I need to ask, when does it matter what I want from this relationship?” He stopped, taking a moment to calm down and think before continuing. 

“I want you, you are what matters most to me. Would I love to be able to call you my wife? Would I think a child of ours was an absolute miracle and a blessing? OF COURSE! And I understand that you have felt a bit like a fish out of water in this… arrangement we have. And it has been the best six months of my life, you know that! I do not have a single regret about one moment of that time we have been together. I don’t think I’m quite as upset about what you don’t seem to want, ever, with me-- but I’m hurt that you would feel so trapped by me! That somehow there seems to be no middle ground or true partnership, it’s usually you making the rules and I adjust to follow them! And why is that? Because in your past you were surrounded by men who, quite frankly, don’t even really deserve that title. I can’t go back and fix any of that-- I can’t change your childhood poverty, or bring your sister back or keep you safe and away from DuBois-- a monster that the world would have definitely been better off without. But I can’t do that and I keep sitting here in the corner and hoping that you will notice that I’m different. That one day you will understand that I consider myself quite permanently taken-- I don’t need to marry you or have a child with you to feel safe and secure, just as neither of those would make me feel any more “trapped” or “stuck” than I am now. But I think, Miss Fisher, I should probably give you a bit of time to think about everything, because I know exactly where you stand in my life and my heart, and I think that if we’re going to actually have a discussion about this-- possible-- situation, perhaps you need some time to yourself.” By now he was in the hallway, shrugging on his jacket and hat from the stand in the front. She had followed him out, wanting to stop him, to say something, but she was paralyzed. He opened the door and turned back to her. 

“I love you, and I know you know that. And I know that you love me. I just think that maybe an evening on our own, thinking about all of these things… that may just help us. And one last thing. For a woman who seems to despise labels and the judgements people place on them-- homosexual, bisexual, woman doctor, foster child-- you certainly seem to be obsessed with avoiding certain labels-- wife, mother… is that because of your feeling about the labels, or what others may say?” And with that, Jack was gone into the night, heading for a very long walk along the pier before he would ultimately return to his small and somewhat sparse home, and his own bed-- where he would get to toss and turn in his sheets until about 3 am when, finally, hopefully, he could get some rest from his thoughts and fall asleep.


	3. There Are Moments to Choose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There are moments when one has to choose between living one's own life, fully, entirely, completely-or dragging out some false, shallow, degrading existence that the world in its hypocrisy demands.” Oscar Wilde
> 
> A few updates and edits based on some comments-- no major changes to the story, just improving the dialogu a few thingse, flow and back and forth to particular dynamics I think will help this story to work the way my brain seems to want to tell it.

“That’s alright Mr. B, I can get the door, it’s just Mac. And by the way, please feel free to retire anytime, I’m in for the night.” As she went to open the door and let her best friend into the house, Mr. Butler asked,

“Will the Inspector be returning this evening, Ma’am?”

“No, Mr. B, I don’t expect he will. No need to wake me earlier than 10 tomorrow. Good night.”

Mr. Butler was far too professional to allow his surprise to be seen, but it had been quite some time since Inspector Robinson had not stayed overnight, and he could hear the anxiety in her voice. Must be some sort of lover’s quarrel. He was sure it would be just fine in the light of the next morning, those two seemed so well suited for each other. Perhaps he should think about looking for a roast leg of lamb tomorrow, something nice and festive for when they inevitably made up. As he wandered off, trying to decide which was more a more romantic side, ratatouille or some kind of elegant pomme frittes, Phryne led Mac into the parlour, stopping inside the door to pour them each a large glass of whiskey. As she handed Mac hers, the redhead couldn’t help but notice that Phryne had been crying recently.

“I take it you told him then?” She actually hadn’t been sure that Phryne would be quite so forthcoming on the topic, at least not while it was still a question.

“Oh Mac, it was awful. I told him and he was just so-- he was so supportive! He didn’t try to tell me what to do, he actually just asked me what I wanted to do!”

“Well that bastard! How dare he treat you so reasonably and lovingly!”

Phryne gave her a rather effective withering glare. “You know that is absolutely not what I meant by it. I didn’t say HE was awful, I said IT was awful.”

“Oh, well, then that’s different. My apologies, I will simply sit here and sip my whiskey while you tell me the long version of the story so that I can move on to telling you what an idiot you are being and we can move on to more entertaining matters.”

So Phryne told her the story-- Jack’s initial reaction, his question, his understandable surprise and then Phryne breaking down like an absolute baby-- that one made Mac raise an eyebrow. In the entirety of the time that she had known Phryne Fisher, (going on, what, 12 years or so?) in that entire time, she had seen Phryne cry maybe half a dozen times, it simply wasn’t in her nature to get weepy, especially not in front of, or due to, a man. “I told him about Rene, you know. All of it.” She looked at Mac, letting her know what “all of it” meant.

“Well, fuck me. No wonder both of you are so upset. That couldn’t have been easy for either of you. Was Jack angry?”

“Of course he was, he looked like he was going to find a way to bring the man back to life so he could have the pleasure of killing him on his own.” Not for the first time in the last two years since DuBois' death, she was rather happy to know that he was very much dead and buried in the ground. “But no, he wasn’t angry about… the other thing.” Phryne had struggled with whether to tell Jack about rest of the story with DuBois. It was her most guarded secret, she had never told anyone who wasn’t directly involved-- the truth was, she was a bit ashamed. First, that she had allowed herself to be so controlled and find herself in the situation in the first place, then that she was almost relieved to have miscarried. She was so terrified as to what life for that child would be like, so concerned that she wouldn’t be able to keep the baby safe from that man. Mac understood, had talked her through some of the days after the miscarriage, trying to help her through the grief and guilt that accompanied it all. But Phryne thought it was important that her cards were all on the table, so to speak. Jack deserved to know everything; furthermore, she had suddenly felt herself WANTING him to know everything about her.

“But then, during dinner, it was silent and awkward, which, of course... we were both naturally trying to think through quite a bit. But, you know me, when its like that, I just want to have it all out-- I'll say anything to provoke a conversation.”

“Bloody Hell, of course you did.” Obviously, this was where the fight had started. Phryne was a brilliant and suave woman, but she had no ability to bite her tongue and let people process things, she assumed having it out in a fight was the only way to clear the air-- thus making it important that whatever she said in that situation was particularly incendiary.

“I told him I thought that maybe his reaction about the whole thing was good evidence that I shouldn’t… that I shouldn’t have this child." She saw the shock in Mac's face and hurried to continue on, trying to mitigate how awful she knew her comment had really been, "I didn’t want him feeling stuck or trapped or anything like that. But Ialso didn’t want him to think that I would suddenly change into this woman who is docile and cares only for children and ladies’ aids societies and which school Matthew would go to or when to bring little Millie out into Society.”

“Matthew and Millie?” Now it was a little difficult to not at least smile-- Phryne had named the child she didn’t even know she was having?

“Oh bugger off, you know what I mean.”

“You know, I’ve always thought Elizabeth a nice, strong name for a girl.”

“If you continue to tease me on this one, at this moment, I will not pour you a refill of this Scotch Whiskey.”

“I accept your turns and surrender completely.” Mac held up her glass for a refill. “So, what happened then? I’m assuming he proceeded to tell you how much of an idiot you are and while he is absolutely, madly, completely in love with you, you have a tendency to be a bit narrow-minded and you should probably remove your head from your own ass?”

Phryne looked at Mac, almost dropping the decanter from surprise.

“That may be almost exactly what he said! How did you know? Did he talk to you?”

“Of course not, that would be far too forthright for the man. But Phryne, truly, it’s me, not some stranger from the street. And I have eyes for myself, you know. The way I see it, you are feeling awfully secure in your feelings for him, are you not?”

She nodded, quietly, tears coming to her eyes again. (If Mac hadn’t been fairly certain that she was pregnant from the exam earlier today, this sudden and intense habit of crying would have probably been the telling sign). Trying not to be frustrated with her, trying to remember that hormones were terrible curses to even the most intelligent and rational women she had ever met, she went over to hold her hand.

“If you love him, and you want to be with him, why does it matter so much what the official terms of it are? If you want to make him happy, why must he do ALL of the changing? Would it be so horrible to give him what he wants? Some sense of official permanence? You say it doesn't matter, it doesn't change anything, having that piece of paper and official registration... but to him, if it does, why is that so bad to give him what he wants? At the end of the day, aren't they just different means to the same end?”

“I know, I know Mac.” She was trying to stop the tears, but her face was so hot and uncomfortable, she was having a very difficult time of it-- maybe she should stop drinking whiskey, it seemed to give her the weeps today.

“But beyond that question, which, by the way, I don’t think was the issue at hand today; what if you are pregnant? Not to be crass, but I assume you know it is his child?”

“Of course! I said I could be monogamous and I have been, entirely.” Truth was, that had not been difficult at all-- he was an incredibly handsome man with a vivid imagination and voracious appetite, a perfect match for her-- how could she even think of another man when she knew what she had with Jack was so incredibly special and perfect-- well, at least it had been perfect.

“So, what is it? Are you opposed to babies? Are you worried about pregnancy and childbirth? Because, I have to admit that not being a person who ever thought fondly about a child, I have to acknowledge that the way you have been with Jane has been, well, its been particularly amazing to watch. I’m not surprised at how generous and kind you can be, that’s just you to the core. But your maternal side… there have been times that I’ve been a little choked up, watching how you handled things when she was kidnapped by Foyle or when you sent her off to Paris and the Continent… or even when you had that very serious and refreshingly mature conversation with her about that boy in Queenscliff and her body and all that…”

“Mac, what exactly are you saying? Do you really think I should have a child?”

“I think that if there were ever two people who had a chance of raising a particularly modern, open-minded and happy child, my money would be on the two of you. Besides, you're rich! What’s the worst thing that could happen? If you seriously don’t care for motherhood, you hire a team of nannies and tutors until you can send the bugger off to boarding school.” She wouldn't say at the moment how distant a possibility that seemed to her.

“Mac!” The doctor merely shrugged her shoulders,

“Its how the rich have gotten away with being lousy parents for ages! Regardless, it seems to me you have two choices. You can take a gamble on this one and keep the child, knowing you would either love it, or you could simply choose to not deal with it, but you would have your Inspector by your side, happy and as addle-minded in love as you. Or, you can terminate and risk his resentment… and maybe even your own regrets?”

“Do you think I would? Regret it I mean?” 

“I’m not actually inside your head Phryne… Good Lord thanks for that- can’t imagine what it looks like in there…But I think the very fact we’re having this conversation means you actually might." Trying to inject a little levity to the conversation she added, "You know, we don’t have these same issues on my side of the romantic aisle-- if you’d like to be out of the situation entirely in the future, I may know some women who would be happy to…” Oh thank God that one worked, Phryne not only smiled at that one, but actually laughed a bit.

“Are you suggesting I become a Lesbian?”

“I’m just saying that I’d hate to be in your shoes, which, by the way, seem to be a bit tighter than normal. Between that and the gallons of tears you seem to have shed today, I’m fairly sure that it’s a condition I could NEVER be in, based on my personal preferences.”

“Do you really think?”

“I’ve run the test, and it’s definitely early days, based on what you told me-- which by the way, was far more information than was strictly necessary, from a clinical perspective. Perhaps next time, with your next doctor, you could leave out quite so many details about the particular acts performed and the lingerie worn (and discarded) during said acts.” She winked at Phryne, watching her reaction with a bit of trepidation, knowing this wasn't quite as funny to the woman dealing with the consequences of it all. “But I have to say that if I had your money, I would probably put a large pot on the odds of eating rabbit stew in the next few days.”

Phryne froze, but only for a moment. Right then, as Mac said it, she had a vision flash through her mind, very briefly, but disturbingly real. She saw a small child, a baby, wrapped in a beautiful blanket, sleeping. Jack was holding the child, who seemed to have his gorgeous eyes but her dark hair and he was singing to the baby-- but not a lullabye or folksong, he was singing “Let’s Misbehave”, a twinkle in his eye and a look of such contentment on his face that she…

“Oh for God’s sake-- are you crying again Phryne?”

“Mac, I think I need to find Jack, I need to talk to him.”

“Do you need a ride? Or can you drive without flooding the streets of Melbourne with your tears?”

“Very funny. Actually, I think I know where he is, could you drop me somewhere? Its not far from the Hospital and I know it’s far too early for you to actually be heading home for the night.”

“Actually, I do have a rather intimate evening planned, with a man.” Phryne raised her eyebrows this time. “He’s 48, of mixed race, and very much dead, lying on my table.” And with that, she finished her drink and waited for Phryne to find a wrap and hat.


	4. Asking Others

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Selfishness is not living as one wishes; it is asking others to live as one wishes to live.” Oscar Wilde
> 
> Jack's thoughts after the big fight. And then, some sexy times, makeup style.

Jack looked at the clock, only 9:30; this was going to be a very long night. He had walked along the pier for around an hour before finally making his way home to his small bungalow. His home was about a 10 minute walk to the Station House, he could always take the tram, but often preferred to walk, it was excellent exercise and a good way to clear his head-- usually. But today, he felt he could probably walk all the way to the moon and not be able to sort out his thoughts on everything that he had heard and experienced in only the last 12 hours. 

He had always suspected that things with Phryne and that French bastard (he refused to use that beast’s name) were even worse than what he had been told; in his experience, women who had been assaulted that way (he couldn’t actually bring himself to use the term ‘rape’, not even in his own head), had a haunting kind of fear and an aspect of terror; different from victims of less intimate (but still brutal) attacks. The former look was much more inline with the expression on her face when DuBois entered the restaurant that day almost two years ago. But to learn that not only had the monster done THAT to her-- the most unspeakable part for him was that while he had then not only beat her so badly, but he had wrapped his hands around her neck and tried to strangle her! He only stopped when she had actually become so scared for her own life that she took off in the night; running terrified, alone, and injured, terrified and alone, she lost the baby. He had to stop thinking about the whole thing or he was going to retch; but it seemed impossible for him to close his eyes without seeing her, on the floor of some horrible dingy flat, that beast with his hands about her throat, gasping for breath, begging him to stop… 

He knew how difficult it must have been for her to tell him this story-- it must have been even worse than him having to hear it. But did he really not have a right to be upset with how she continued to shut him out of her decisions? After all this time, he felt he was barely a part of the process in deciding things-- she would “consult” with him, ask him questions, but he knew that he wasn’t allowed to actually have a say in the matter-- at least, not if it conflicted with what she already planned to do. Maybe she had a right to have kept all of that story from him, or maybe she had only been trying to protect him-- despite how he wished he could find a way to have protected her from any of it. But either way, why did she get to make all the decisions on when and how to let him in? 

And that was another thing! Why would she even talk to him about this whole thing if she clearly did not intend to have the baby? Why would she dangle such a dream of his in front of his face if she knew what she wanted to do? At least if he never knew about it, he couldn’t be hurt by it or come to resent her-- wasn’t ignorance bliss?

But did he really not want to know either? Wasn’t it wonderful that she had told him? That she was honest when she could have simply gone off for the procedure, saying it was just a few days at a spa and he may never have known? 

Truth be told, he actually hadn’t ever given much thought to what would happen if she “fell in” despite all their careful measures. Somehow, the idea that Phryne Fisher may not always get everything her way seemed almost ludicrous; the idea that any kind of device would dare to fail on her-- it just couldn’t happen. Of course he had occasional day dreams that, in a few years, she would change her mind and maybe they could try to have a family at that point, but he had never expected it.

And then, for her to actually think that he would feel trapped? Did she truly believe that or was she just trying to provoke him to anger? If that was the aim, he had to give her credit for doing an admirable job of it, she had certainly succeeded. He had not had a great deal of experience with pregnancy; his sister was younger, by two years, so by the time she was born he didn’t really remember anything about his mother’s pregnancy or having an infant in the house. His sister had four children, but she was very old-fashioned, he had barely known she was carrying before she had the child! Perhaps all of this had just those hormones he had heard about, mood swings and high emotions during the pregnancy? Had he actually just terrified her with his tantrum and anger? 

His mind flashed to a case where a new mother, child only a few days old, had been so depressed and overcome by hormones that she drowned herself and her child. Was that possible in a woman still carrying? Was it possible that she was actually pregnant and he had made things that much worse in her state, that she was actually depressed and would do something dramatic and entirely out of character? 

As he bathed himself and then, dressed only in his pyjama bottoms, shaved and brushed his teeth, he continued to think.

He loved her. He had told her before he left that he was merely trying to deal with some things that had shocked him, finding a way to cope; but was it possible that she was actually just trying to handle what was changing within her? How could he have been so incredibly stupid as to say those things to her right now-- maybe he felt that way, but with what she told him about DuBois and this Sword of Damocles hanging over their heads until they had a test result one way or the other…. 

Dammit, Jack! How could he have been so harsh on her, tonight of all nights? This was a time in which she probably needed his unfailing love and support more than ever before, and yet he chose that moment to call her out on being selfish, not thinking about anyone else? He had never truly appreciated irony so well until that realization now. Yes, he had certainly been concerned that she really never would want to marry him or have a family or “settle down”. But he was also certain that none of that was worth losing this woman over. He may be frustrated and worried and a little bit hurt, but he had never known love like what she gave him-- true intimacy-- body, mind, soul, heart. Wasn’t that worth the efforts? And they had time to work these things out-- their entire lives, by his calculations. 

“Good God Robinson, you have been a perfect ass!” He ran to his room, looking for the first shirt he could find so he could run out the door and go to her, immediately, he couldn’t wait. What would happen if she was pregnant? He had no idea, it would be very difficult on him-- on them-- if she chose to terminate; but if nothing else, him running away in anger and frustration certainly wasn’t going to help to convince her of his love and dedication to their relationship. He pulled on his undershirt and grabbed a top, heading to the parlour where he had left his shoes, planning to button the shirt in his car. The moment that he got to them, there was a knock at the door. Muttering under his breath he moved to the door. 

“If your precious child misplaced her darling kitten and you are expecting me to spend the night joining with the tree until it trusts me enough to come down… again…” he had spent an evening in his neighbor’s tree in a similar situation only about a month or so back and he was in far too much of a hurry to deal with that again right now. He threw open the solid oak panel with a gruff look on his face, ready to yell at whomever happened to have the bad luck of being on the other side.  
“Jack!” There she was, her impeccable skin, her magical eyes and crimson red lips, her glossy hair, shining in the moonlight. All he could think to do at that moment was pull her in from the porch and cover her mouth completely-- and so he did. After a moment in the entryway, he managed to pull away from her for the briefest of moments, needing to say, “Phryne! I am so sorry, I have been unforgivable! I am so in love with you, I don’t know how I could ever…” he was punctuating every phrase with a kiss to her lips, her neck, her shoulders. No wonder she won every argument-- he was too far gone to really fight with her. This beautiful, independent, fiery spirit had been through so much in her life-- Jack had suffered through war, but so had she… and nothing else he had ever dealt with could compare to her experiences. He wanted to allay her fears, to make her forget those horrible times and her terrible men and father and her childhood. 

“No, Jack, please, stop.” She had never before asked him to stop. They were halfway down the hall to his bedroom, but he instantly complied. 

“Are you alright?” She stopped, placing her hands on either side of his face, wanting to make sure that he would see her as she said this. 

“Jack, stop. I’m the one who needs to apologize. I am so hopelessly in love with you. But I’m a bit scared, and somewhat in shock, and I was wrong earlier. I was holding you accountable for things from my past… or not giving you the chance to understand how they made me who I am (for good or bad), and trying to hold onto my ego in a way that meant I would never really be able to move on. And I don’t want that, I WANT to be able to move on from all of that. I want you.” That was all she needed to say, she pulled him back into her kiss again, feeling how he melted into her arms. 

“No, Phryne, I think that I need to tell you…”

“Jack, we have all the time in the world for words, and I do promise we will talk about this. But right now…” and with that, she bit his lower lip-- which, turned out to be the end of any conversation for a while. He took her arms in his hand and spun her around, forcing her up against the wall of the hallway, only just barely remembering to kick the front door shut at the same time.

His mouth was on her mouth, but he quickly traveled down her body, while holding her hands, by her wrists, over her head, her back against the cool plaster and his mouth on her breasts. They did feel a bit larger and more sensitive than usual, but his brain could barely process that thought, all he could think of was how badly he needed her at that moment. 

“Should we continue to the bedroom?” Phryne asked.

But Jack didn’t feel that there was nearly enough time for that. He needed to remember how she felt, how she had defied her own expectations of herself to be with him, and only him. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but he knew that he could find comfort and passion and love inside of her. Normally he would strip her entirely, but today he had no ability to do anything other than rip her knickers off from under her skirt and thrust two fingers into her wetness. She gasped as he did so, contracting around his flesh, showing him what was possible for the rest of him. 

But despite her excitement to have him, she was feeling contrite, penitent. She spent a few minutes, back against the wall with one leg balancing her to allow for better sensation, but then dropped to her knees, ripping off his pants, putting him inside her mouth, hearing and feeling his sigh of relief from all the pent up anger, annoyance, frustration and hurt of the day. She focused on sucking, licking, kissing and rubbing him down with as much warm wetness as possible, he was moaning and calling her name, stroking her head, not wanting this to end, but wanting to be inside of her, needing to feel that different kind of pressure and warmth. Finally, he could take it no more. 

He pulled her up from her knees, pushing her against the wall, holding her back with light pressure as he hiked up her skirt and, still standing, thrust himself inside of her. All he heard was her gasps as he entered her deeper and deeper, his cock, his hands, he had few thoughts other than his love for her and need to feel himself come inside her. 

Much earlier than he would have expected, he felt her begin to climax. Her internal tension and his rigorous pace led to him joining her in release at almost the exact same time. They both collapsed to the floor of his hallway, still mostly clothed, exhausted and satisfied. He leaned into kiss her, with all the tenderness and love he had for her at that moment. He stroked her cheek, thinking. 

Jack broke the silence after a few moments of recovery. “Perhaps we should try and make it to the bed now… I don’t think I’m still young enough to be able to sleep on the bare floor without serious aches in the morning.” She nodded in agreement and allowed him to pull her up and lead her to his room. He went to the bathroom to clean up and when he returned to her, she was already in only her camisole and knickers and cuddled up into the covers. 

She was so delicate and beautiful and wonderful… and scared. He knew that his shock and anxiety were nothing compared to what she must be dealing with. He knew he was a perfect bastard for choosing today of all days to try and deal with some of their bigger issues-- commitment, marriage, compromise and working together. The memories this must have brought back for her, to say nothing of the implications for her-- her body, her life, her work, her relationship with him. 

Her back was to him, she didn’t know that he was back in the room, thinking of how she was so filled with love for that man. She had come here tonight planning to talk to him, to have a real conversation and to try and fix everything that seemed to go so horribly wrong so incredibly fast today. She had been so wrong to put all of this on him all at once like she had. Why had she had to go and fall in love with this man? Life was so much simpler before; before she would never had to consider any of this, she never would have had to delve back into those impossible to handle chapters in her life like Rene, the miscarriage, her not-so-pleasant upbringing in the slums of Collingwood. 

Jack was so right, she was very selfish, she had become accustomed to living her life however she saw fit, and she could change any aspect of it at a moment’s notice. But Jack wasn’t like that. And yet, he loved her so much, he almost always indulged her whims (or at least didn’t try to stop them), watching or even occasionally, participating in her latest insane scheme or hobby. How could a woman like her be a mother? She was never tied down to any thing or place for too long, she lived on impulse and whatever struck her fancy. And she understood that not everyone took to parenting well, some people were naturals and some were just awful-- it was very likely her father should have been left out the gene pool, or whoever it was that gave birth to Murdoch Foyle. What if she was a terrible mother? She knew that she could simply pay for nannies and schools, as Mac had said-- but Phryne wasn’t one to do things by halves. Not to say she wouldn’t hire a nanny-- she felt little need to deal with wet nappies or a child screaming at all hours of the night; but she saw little merit to having a child and ignoring it for the next 18 years of its life. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by Jack’s footsteps and then him crawling into bed in his warm, cozy, flannel pyjamas. He smelled of soap and whiskey and love. He rolled onto his side and pulled her into him, holding her tightly, kissing the back of her head. She nuzzled back into him, reveling in this feeling of safety and love and tenderness. How could she ever have put him through the madness of today? “Jack, we should talk, about today. I just wanted you to know that I’m so incredibly sorry about how it all happened today and I…” He pulled her in tighter and whispered, 

“Shhh, not now Phryne. I have a great deal to apologize for as well, and I promise I will, in the morning. We’ve both had quite a shock today. Let’s try and get some sleep and we’ll talk tomorrow.” 

She turned around to face him, her eyes wide with concern. “You know that I love you, right? You know that you have become the most important thing to me, you…” 

“Shh, Phryne. I love you too-- more than anything under the heavens.” And then he kissed her again, and felt a familiar stirring in him, deepening the kiss and feeling her respond enthusiastically. Maybe they weren’t going to sleep quite yet… but they weren’t going to be doing any talking either.


	5. Romantically Uncertain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The very essence of romance is uncertainty.”

Jack woke around 4:00 in the morning to a strange noise. He turned to Phryne to see if she had heard it, but he realized she wasn’t there. He jumped out of bed to go and went looking for her, was she alright? As he passed his lavatory and noticed the light was shining from under the door, he heard her again, clearly retching. He knocked on the door, not at all sure of the protocol here. 

“Phryne? Are you ok? Are you ill?”

She responded wryly, “Oh, just peachy Jack, I was thinking maybe we could head out to a club for some champagne and dancing....” she was interrupted by another heave that made Jack wince in sympathy for her. 

“Phryne, can I come in, do you need anything? Some water, weak tea, or maybe a few crackers?”

“Jack Robinson, I swear, if you mention food or drink to me again…” More retching, that couldn’t possibly be all right, Jack thought. 

“Phryne, please, let me in!” No response. “Phryne, I’m a police officer, I can break in this door rather easily if necessary.”

“Oh, fine. I don’t understand why you have to be so demanding and oafish.” She got up and walked the two steps to reach the bathroom door and unlock it before heading right back to where she had been, front and center in front of the toilet, clinging to the bowl as though she would fall off the earth if she lost touch with it for even a moment. Jack stepped in and looked at her-- her skin not its usual lustrous creaminess, but a rather ghostly, clammy white with a tinge of green to it. Her eyes were bloodshot and she was sweating and breathing heavy. He moved to kneel next to her, holding her hand. 

“What is wrong? Should I call a doctor? Or I could take you to Mac, have her look you over. Do you suppose it’s something you ate?” He reached over to feel her forehead, trying to determine if she was feverish. She only looked at him with an expression of exhausted bemusement. 

“Jack, I’m fine, it’s not anything I ate or the flu, I don’t need a doctor. Good Lord, it isn’t as though I can just call a doctor every morning for the next nine months after all.”

“Nine months? Wait--” Realization was suddenly dawning on him and if she hadn’t felt so terribly and disgustingly queasy at the moment, the look on his face would probably have made her laugh so hard she’d wake his neighbors. Trying to keep a straight face she continued.

“Well, I suppose, technically, it’s only about 7 ½ months remaining.”

“Phryne? Does that mean that you…?” Was this real or just a very vivid dream he was having? Although how anyone’s subconscious could come up with a scenario in which he was experiencing one of the greatest moments of his life, while on his bathroom floor with this woman vomiting all over…. 

Trying to smile, and almost succeeding, she looked at him, her gaze steady so he could see her certainty in her decision. “I think it’s safe to say, even before we get back the test results, that you are going to be a father. In early February, if I’ve done my math correctly-- although, I don’t think we can be too certain of that right now… we did have QUITE a few opportunities for conception in the last two months to try and determine exactly which one took.” Her eyebrow arched seductively and her lips pursed-- God Almighty, even in this situation she could be a vixen!

He pulled her to him in strong but tender embrace. He kissed her forehead, her cheeks and then held her out in front of him, wanting to take in the entire view. She noticed that his eyes dropped to the level of her belly, as he teared up a bit. That was his child growing, in there. He was going to be a father. In February. His mind was reeling, he had never really thought he would, that she really would want to… that she loved him so much that she would ignore everything else she had ever wanted and give him this gift… That thought struck a dissonant chord, very suddenly. 

“Phryne, you aren’t doing this just because… because you know that I want to, are you? Because if you aren’t wholly and completely certain about this then we should probably think about it some more. We have a little time to make up our minds if you need.” 

“You know me better than that, Jack, I’m rarely quite that selfless or generous to anyone.” She smiled wryly at him, but seeing the sincerely anxious look on his face, she sobered up. “No, its true, I never did see the appeal of children-- I like my life quite nicely as it is and this is most certainly going to disrupt it and I am terrified of so many things. I worry about how a baby is going to affect my life, I’m worried that I won’t like being a mom, even that I’ll be a terrible mother and ruin any child I have. Hell, just the idea of what this will do to my body and my wardrobe-- I’m vain enough to care about all of that. But there is so much more to life than my fears and anxieties, and I know that for my many faults and deficiencies, I know that I won’t have to do this alone.”

“I don’t live a traditional life. I lost my sister very young, my father was a horrible drunken brute, and my mother is a quiet mouse of a woman who does whatever he says. But in the last few years, I have found real family-- it’s a rag-tag, hodge-podge of characters, that’s true, but I love every single one of them-- Dot, Hugh, Mac, Mr. B, Bert and Cec-- even Aunt P! And then of course, the absolute two best parts of my life-- Jane, and you. And the two of you have come in and made my life, just… with you two, I feel closer to complete than I have since I lost Janey.” 

“I do tend to make fast, irrational decisions, I think on my feet and go with my gut and my heart. And most of the best decisions in my life have been made this way. Bringing home Jane, hiring Dot, coming back to Australia in the first place! And no matter how scared I am about all of this, I keep thinking about what I told you when I said I wanted to foster Jane and you were trying to warn me about how difficult that could be, but I was so calm and confident in that decision, I responded to you, ‘Nothing that matters is easy.’ This is not going to be easy at all, I know that. I’m going to be frustrated and worried and scared for a while. I’m going to have days where I don’t know if I made the right choice or when I feel like I’m drowning in unsurety.” 

“But, you were right about some of the things you said earlier. I have been inconsiderate of your feelings about this relationship; I’ve always known that you were more traditional than I am, and you have bent over backwards, twisting everything around to be in my life on my terms. I can’t keep holding you accountable to my terrible mistakes with men in the past when all you have ever done is show me how different you are from any of them. This certainly was not expected, but that doesn’t mean it was a mistake either. I don’t want to be without you, ever, and I want to make you as happy as you have made me-- and if you think that having a family consisting of me and this child would make you that happy, I’m all in. ” She rubbed her belly, she knew that whatever was in there right now was absolutely tiny, but she thought back to that image in her head of Jack holding a tiny bundle, glowing from fatherhood, singing Cole Porter to the child, and that made her anxiety ebb and a small smile tugged at her cheeks. 

Jack put his arm around her, both of them still sitting on the floor of his tiny bathroom, right next to his toilet and the washstand. Given the extreme generosity and almost outrageous displays of affection and love she shared with practically everyone she had ever met, he thought she would be the most amazing and natural mother who ever lived. If not for her very genuine fears, he would laugh at the very idea that she would be anything less than the best at anything she put her mind to, because Phryne Fisher only ever did things with passionate abandon and true dedication. She constantly took on impossible causes-- Jane, the Flower Maidens, Paddy and the others from the Bottle Top Gang, dangerous only semi-official spy missions that almost led to her death in Northern Africa during a war… 

Kissing her forehead, he decided to be honest with her. “You know, Phryne, I’m fairly terrified myself.” He hadn’t wanted to admit that, not even really to himself, but it was true. 

“Of what, Jack? You’re a perfect natural! You have such a strong, steady presence, you can calm anyone in any situation and you have the patience of a Buddhist Monk!”

“True, I have learned to be patient with you after all.” She jabbed him in the ribs, softly, knowing it was mostly funny because it was true. “But I’m not sure how much a 4 year-old child is going to appreciate my appreciation of Shakespeare, chess and fine whiskey. I’m not entirely sure what a 4 year-old child would like, actually. I suppose puppies and rocking horses and loud, noisy toys?” Phryne laughed, it was true that maybe Jack wasn’t the most light-hearted, child-at-heart kind of person, but she hadn’t thought before about his fears of having a kid-- when he seemed to be such a perfect natural in her mind. And hadn’t he always wanted kids-- she decided to ask him. 

“Well, yes, I have always wanted them-- but I don’t think I knew what to expect from the experience, and I suppose I assumed that she-- Rosie, would watch them and handle most of the actual parenting- I would come home from work, see them before they went to bed and then I could eat dinner. And then, once they got old enough to be interesting, I could teach them to play football or backgammon and fish and such.”

“Jack, I really don’t think that seems at all fair or reasonable, I’m not planning to stop being me-- I’ll still work, I’ll still have my clubs and interests… I hope that you aren’t expecting that I will just…” He cut her off with a kiss.

“Phryne, as adorable as the idea is of you attempting a life of normal, conventional homemaking activities, I have always told you that I want YOU. I want to be with the woman I fell in love with, this independent, free-thinking, brilliant Amazon of a woman. And I meant what I said earlier, I’m not looking to be the one who runs the show or makes all the decisions in this relationship, I want a true partnership. We’ll each have to find our strengths and figure all of this out together.”

“In fact, Miss Fisher,” he pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head as he continued, “maybe that’s the reason why it’s necessary for two people to create a child, because more than one person is going to need to raise that child. One person isn’t likely to be enough for the kid-- we can each go with our strengths and help smooth out each other’s rougher edges.” She nuzzled into his half embrace, drinking in the comfort of his strength and love. 

“How is it that you can make all of my fears seem so manageable, so quickly? Don’t mistake me, I’m certain I will be back to a blubbering mess in almost no time… but right now, you have me feeling so content and almost courageous. You actually have me thinking that I might be able to do this after all, without ruining the child's life...or yours.”

“Phryne, I know you aren’t feeling well and you are dealing with a lot of emotions right now, but I really have to ask you to stop being so hard on yourself or giving yourself so many guilt trips! You are easily the most exasperating woman I have ever met, you make me feel like I’m actually losing my mind on a regular basis, and there are most definitely times in which I have NO idea what to do with you. But you also are THE light in my life. You need only to walk in the room and my heart picks up to an almost dangerous pace, I spend the time you aren’t with me thinking about your scent, your smile, your eyes… and your incredible warmth, compassion, your thirst for life… Did it truly not occur to you that so much of my excitement that you may be pregnant is because… because the idea that my child could have your strength, your resilience, your passion, and every other thing I love about you… that is infinitely more exciting and important to me than anything else ever could be.”

Phryne was crying. Again. “Jack… I simply don’t know what I’m going to do about another 7 months of these damned hormones! I haven’t been able to stop crying all day it seems, I’m terrified of everything, and I feel a bit like someone has taken over my body and I’m no longer in control. But I want you to know that these are happy tears. Well, at least half happy, half terrified. But I actually believe that if you are here, with me, holding my hand, I can do just about anything, even the impossible. I promise that I’m going to spend a lot of time in the next few months trying harder to listen to you and compromise. I promise. It isn’t just about me anymore, I need to get used to that.”

“Actually, its not about just the two of us anymore, Phryne. But for the moment, perhaps we could at least try to get a bit more sleep? I understand sleepless nights are a part of parenthood, but perhaps we should try and delay the experience until the child actually gets here.” And with that he helped her up and back to bed, where they both fell back into slumber, holding each other as tightly as possible.


	6. Immoral Books?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The books that the world calls immoral are books that show the world its own shame.”
> 
> Dot and Phryne 
> 
> The book quoted here is real: Emma Drake wrote in 1902's What a Young Wife Ought to Know: "From the wedding day, the young matron should shape her life to the probable and desired contingency of conception and maternity. Otherwise she has no right or title to wifehood." It is very in-line with other books at the time that I'm sure Dot would have had some access to, such as Macfadden's Womanhood and Marriage:
> 
> "With the development of the idea of personal freedom has come the feeling, on the part of many women, that they should have the right of ownership of their own bodies — in other words, that they should have the privilege of choosing whether or not they will acquiesce in their husband's desire for entering into the physical relationship of marriage. Since, however, it has been for so long a time an accepted idea that the husband's right over the wife's body was inherent, it is advisable for any young woman who takes the other point of view to make her attitude thoroughly understood by her future husband before she definitely takes upon herself the obligations of the marriage state."

Phryne returned to 221b much later the next morning, she had always been a very late sleeper, but this pregnancy had her sleeping until 10:30 every morning this week. Jack had already left for the station and she was absolutely famished, she was guessing the baby had Jack’s rather insatiable appetite. As she entered the kitchen she was surprised to see Dot sitting alone, staring at a cup of tea, crying. She hurried to her companion, sitting next to her.

“Dot, what happened? Is everything alright?” Dot hadn’t even noticed that Miss Fisher was home, she had been distracted in her own troubles.

“Oh Miss… I… I just had my monthly course! It has been 8 months since the wedding and nothing! I feel as though I will never conceive, what if we can’t? Hugh and I always wanted a family, a big family- what if we can’t?” Her tears were coming harder and faster at this point. “All I’ve ever hoped for in my life is to be a loving wife and a wonderful, dedicated mother to my brood. And I know that is what Hugh wants! What if I can’t give that to him? Will he hate me? That’s what we learned in our pre-canna course, marriage is for the procreation of children. And… he seems to…” she was upset, but getting very hesitant as she veered towards an uncomfortable and unseemly topic. “He certainly seems to enjoy… the marriage act” she was whispering now, as though someone may hear and she would be in trouble. 

“I believe that’s quite normal Dot, and you? Are you enjoying it?” She hadn’t been able to determine how Dot had acclimated to married life in this sense, any questions she had asked in the past had been dodged or ignored, it was unseemly to speak of such things, after all. 

“It is… fine, Miss. I quite enjoy the kissing… and it isn’t as unpleasant as my mother had told me it would be. But Hugh seems to enjoy it very much, and what if we are infertile? We would have to stop! And then he would be without children or… relations… and I don’t know how a marriage can survive that! He would be perfectly within his rights to leave me, be done with me and find a woman more… suitable for him. How could I judge him for that?”

“Well I believe that everyone else on this Earth would judge him rather harshly over that. But, Dot, where on earth did you hear that you would have to stop if you can’t have children?”

“The book, from my mum, when we got married! Mrs. Drake’s book, its the one mum received on her wedding day from her mother and she gave it to me. Mrs. Drake is very clear, "From the wedding day, the young matron should shape her life to the probable and desired contingency of conception and maternity. Otherwise she has no right or title to wifehood." And Father O’Leary said that a man is not to… waste his seed, if it is not with the hope and faith in conception-- that’s a sin Miss!” 

Phryne was speechless. Dot, this lovely, virtuous and intelligent girl, truly believed in her heart of hearts that not being able to conceive would be a justifiable reason for Hugh to leave her-- because without a child there can be no happiness, or apparently, enjoyment, in marriage! What was this book she was speaking of? Granted, Phryne was not one to read such idiotic nonsense, but she had never heard of this Mrs. Drake, how else had the poor woman brainwashed Dot? She took Dot’s hand, looking into her eyes:

“Dot, you have only been married eight months! You are very young and obscenely healthy. I believe these things often take time-- Aunt P was married for five years before she had Arthur, and there were years in between him and Guy. But have you been to a doctor to discuss this?”

“A doctor? To discuss my… Oh, Miss, I don’t believe I could!”

“Dot, your body is not something a woman should ever be ashamed of! And you should understand, completely, how it works. How the mechanics of your parts, and Hugh’s for that matter, work together to create a child-- and then how that child will be in your womb, and how it will be born, and early days of the child’s body! Would it help if I arranged for you to speak with Dr. MacMillan? Would you feel more comfortable speaking to a woman?”

“Oh, Miss, would you? I think that maybe I could just barely manage to speak to her. She wouldn’t have to… examine me… would she?”

“I would imagine you can start with just a conversation, Dot. I’m afraid I don’t know a great deal about what would be involved in any kind of “fertility” testing or assessment, but she is one of the best doctors I’ve ever known.” Dot was beginning to sniffle, her tears seemed to abate, she seemed moderately more cheerful. “And Dot, you cannot worry about this! You married Hugh because you love him, you want to be with him for your entire life-- just him. If you have children, that’s wonderful, and I’m sure you will have litters of them, in time. But that is besides the point. Suppose the trouble was with Hugh, and not with you, would you leave him?”

“Of course not, Miss! I would adopt or foster or… find another way!”

“Exactly, Dot! There is no reason why it shouldn’t be the same if it were you-- and I’m sure it won’t be, I’m sure you will be fat and happy and dripping with babies in no time at all! But I will call Mac and see if she can possibly fit us in today or tomorrow. I have a matter I was intending to ask her about, myself.”

 

“Oh, thank you Miss! I would be so grateful! I just… I want to have a child and be a proper wife and mother so badly! I know that you don’t understand that desire, Miss, but it is all I have ever wanted, since I was a child myself!”

As Phryne patted Dot’s shoulder and left the room to telephone Mac, that stuck with her. While it was true that she hadn’t really understood the desire to be a wife or a mother before, she was beginning to question why that was. Was she maybe missing some component in her make-up? Perhaps there was some quality or gene that gave women these desires that seemed so normal? Was it possible to develop these feelings and instincts? Would she come to be excited by the prospect of having a son or a daughter? Thrill at the idea of being home with the child, reading a book to him or her? Would she truly come to enjoy a quiet, simple domesticity with whatever kind of family she and Jack managed to cobble together? 

She spoke briefly with Mac, letting her know that she would be bringing Dot by for a quick consultation, and that she needed a word or two with the good doctor. “Dot, grab your coat and hat, we’re going to the Hospital to see Mac in 15 minutes! But in the meantime, is there any food around the kitchen? I’m starving!”

Approximately an hour later, Dot came out of Dr. Mac’s exam room looking very relieved. “All is well Dot?”

“I believe so Miss. Nothing a little time and patience shouldn’t be able to manage. I’ll wait out here for you, shall I?”

“Yes Dot, I don’t imagine I’ll be long. I wanted to… discuss my current Stopes device.” Dot blanched a bit and sat down, picking up a nice, respectable ladies magazine to peruse.

“So, Phryne. I assume things went well with you and Jack last night?”

“I’m actually here today to ask if you would consider being my physician over the next 9 months, Mac.”

Mac looked like she had just won a bet with herself, she loved being right and she would have put money on Phryne and Jack deciding to have the child together. She was a tad concerned as to what this might mean for her favorite drinking buddy-- usually ready for an evening out at almost no notice, would she become a boring but thoroughly contented homebody?

“You know, Phryne, that I wouldn’t let anyone else do it.” She hugged her good friend, genuinely happy for her. “So, how are you feeling? How is Jack feeling?”

“I believe Jack is probably doing better than I am. He stumbled upon me at 4 am with my head hovering over his toilet as I lost everything I had eaten in the last 24 hours… since the time before I’d been in the same position, the day before. He was so concerned that maybe I had food poisoning… he was going to break down the door if I didn’t let him in! And we talked, when he finally figured out why I was so sick and that it was going to continue for a while… he just… Oh Mac, he looked so happy, like I had given him the world on a plate!” She smiled at such a recent memory-- her and Jack, snuggled up tightly while on the floor of his tiny bathroom-- she never would have allowed any other lover to join her in the bathroom while she was sick-- she preferred her men to leave fairly soon after she was done with them. But Jack was so worried about her, wanted to care for her, nurse her, help her. And he did so with such tenderness, it was his pleasure to do so, it was no onerous duty or task. 

“Mac… you’ve delivered hundreds of babies. Do you ever see women who are… well, who are more like me? Finding themselves very unexpectedly in the way and watch them adjust? Do they? Do you think…?”

“Oh for pity’s sake Phryne, is that what you’re worried about?”  
“Mac, please don’t mock me right now, I’m… I’m worried. What if it doesn’t happen for me? What if I don’t actually find a way to connect with or enjoy or LOVE this child?”

Mac had about a dozen sarcastic retorts jump to mind, but seeing the anguished look in her best friend’s face, she decided to drop the gruffer exterior (witty as it usually was) and help this woman who was like a sister to her. 

“Phryne. I could never, ever, imagine you have trouble loving anyone. You exude love and generosity, you inspire devotion and adoration! I cannot promise anything about how you are going to feel about the slimey, bumpy, almost reptilian like bundle that you will have to expel from your body in February-- and that will be the easy part! Lord, they cry, they eat, they shit, they don’t do much else actually for quite some time. And yet, somehow, I see these women come through here, they are planning to give up their child- they are unmarried, have no money, their lives will likely be ruined by this, their only salvation would be in giving up the child and moving away, maybe they can move past the mistake. And then, they hold this tiny thing in their arms, and they are absolutely transformed-- they cannot find it in themselves to give up the child, they will risk absolutely everything to protect it. Time after time I witness this. I am not really one for faith or a belief in miracles, Phryne-- but there is something that happens, sometimes its exactly like a switch being turned on, sometimes it takes up to a few hours to hit that point. But it happens.”

“And you, you are so warm and lovely, how could any child not love you? Look at the last two years of your life and how often they have flocked to you, you are like the Pied Piper. You have solved their problems, fixed their troubles, made their lives so much better. Phryne, you are going to fall in love with your child. I know you’re terrified. But it’s likely that even MY crusty old, rusted heart is going to melt at this child-- I will spoil him or her so rotten that the child stands no chance of living a normal life.” They laughed, Phryne’s heart very much relieved--not entirely, but she knew that of all the people in her life, she could absolutely trust what Mac was telling her-- she was a brilliant physician AND her truest friend. 

“You, Mac, are going to make one hell of a Godmother!”


	7. The Breath of Our Passion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “She is all the great heroines of the world in one. She is more than an individual. I love her, and I must make her love me. I want to make Romeo jealous. I want the dead lovers of the world to hear our laughter, and grow sad. I want a breath of our passion to stir dust into consciousness, to wake their ashes into pain.” Oscar Wilde
> 
> Its been a while since we had some sexy times, so we're going to fix that in this chapter (in the middle, in case you're planning to skip them, if they aren't your thing). But I do think that the beginning and the end conversations are nice little vignettes of the couple doing what people in a relationship do- sharing thoughts and feelings and helping each other cope with challenges and worries. I'm trying very hard to listen to Phryne and Jack-- she's decided to keep the child, but she still has MANY concerns and anxieties. Also, I'm not ready for them to discuss the "Big M"... I know that conversation is coming, but I can't actually hear how it is supposed to go. 
> 
> Enjoy!!!!

“Inspector Robinson for you, Miss.”

“Thank you, Mr. Butler, I think we’ll take cocktails in the parlour until supper is ready.”

“Very good Miss.” With that he closed the doors in front of him as he went into the kitchen to prepare the inspector’s favorite cocktail, dirty gin martinis with three olives. While Jack preferred whiskey (neat) when given his absolute choice, Mr. Butler had a way with a cocktail shaker and some gin, he never complained about the strong but perfectly mixed concoctions that man could create.

“How was your day, Inspector? Catch any killers or bank robbers?”

“Not today, Miss Fisher. It was one of those truly boring and all too common days in which nothing much happened but a great deal of paperwork. Speaking of which, if you ever wish to be as helpful as you are during an investigation, I would certainly welcome your assistance in completing the paperwork that solving cases tends to create.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t want my help with that, Jack. I have terrible handwriting and loathe being seated longer than about 15 minutes.”

“Just the same, if you’re ever finding yourself with a few free hours and a lack of more interesting plans.”

“I shall keep that in mind, Jack. But something tells me that I mostly have mornings of illness and afternoons of naps in the immediate future.” Her voice was a bit enigmatic, but her face had the attempt at a smile.

“How are you… are you feeling better than last night? Or was it this morning?” Before she could respond, Mr. B appeared unobtrusively as possible, with drinks and a small bowl of popped corn and cashew nuts mixed together. Just as quickly and quietly as he had entered, he exited. He did note to himself that they seemed in a much better place, emotionally, than the last time he saw them together. Jack was sitting right next to her, her hands in his, face inches from her.

“Well, I think it is conventionally known as “morning sickness”, but it seems to strike me at just about the time I am USED to crawling into my bed. And once it has passed, I seem to spend the rest of the day eating whatever I can… coincidentally causing me to feel sick again-- I’m fairly certain this child has your voracious appetite, God help me I’m going to be big as this house. But, I’m sure you’d like to know that I saw Mac again today.”

“Oh? Is everything fine?”

“Relax, you can’t go pale every time I mention I saw a doctor. Actually, I went with Dot, it seems she is a bit frustrated and upset about the fact that she is not in my shoes, so to speak. So I suggested a bit of a trip to speak with a complement female doctor about things.”

“I’m sure that was a particularly natural and not at all uncomfortable conversation for Mrs. Collins.” Poor woman, he knew how awkward that would be for the shy and traditional young wife, but he also wanted to smile at the thought of the conversation.

“Hugh hasn’t said anything to you…?”

Jack almost snorted gin through his sinuses and nose, just the little bit that had entered his nasal passages burned in a particularly uncomfortable manner.

“What, exactly, do you imagine he would say to me on the subject?”

“I’m not suggesting that he spoke to you about positions or girth.” He decided to hurry and finish his drink before she could continue to shock him and he choked on his cocktail.

“Oh Jack, please, while I may prefer to be direct, I do understand that doesn’t come so easily to most on certain subjects. I only meant, has he expressed any frustrations on their lack of conception in the last eight months? I think its safe to assume that the genuinely awaited their wedding night. Or has he mentioned anything else for that matter? Mac was able to do a fairly thorough exam on Dot today, but I do know that in order for it to really be conclusive, Hugh would also have to be tested. I tried to explain to Dot what that would involve and I'm fairly certain that she's currently at home, trying very hard to not think about certain things Hugh would need to do... to himself... to get the required sample."

"But, I also checked on a few therapies that have worked in treating some of the more common issues couples can face. I read quite a bit about some very ancient homeopathic acupuncture remedies the Chinese have been using for centuries and are said to be incredibly effective. I thought I might contact Lin Chung about an expert Hong Kong, see if he can arrange an introduction. According to the conversation with an herbalist in Chinatown I spoke to, this man has a long track record of success in even very difficult cases. And of course I spoke with my solicitor about what would be involved with putting them on a list with Child Welfare to adopt, the fees involved and the process for a young couples. He will have more information in the next few days that I can pass along to them if necessary.

“This is all very nice of you, and incredibly generous. Now, may I ask why feel quite so vested in this issue? As you said, they have only been trying for eight months, I don't believe that is a particularly unusual amount of time to wait- I seem to recall being told not to be concerned until 18-24 months.” She didn't like to stop and think about how much and how often he and Rosie had probably tried for a child; she was not a jealous person, in her mind, but she just did not like to think of Jack having been with anyone but her sometimes. She knew that was incredibly stupid, she hadn't exactly been a nun, but that was completely besides the point sometimes- rationale did not have a place here. 

“I don’t know what you mean, Jack. I’m only concerned for one of my best friends on God’s earth!”

“And is that all it is?” She looked at him, wishing he didn’t look so incredible in that suit. The glint in his eye was unmistakable, he knew her so well. She sighed, she should have figured that he would see through it all. Putting down his glass, she pulled his arm around her, pulled her legs up on to the chaise, tucked in towards her body, she snuggled into him-- his warm, clean scent. She breathed in the smell of his laundry soap, the gin on his breath…

“I just feel guilty, I suppose. It seems so wrong, somewhat backwards. All she has ever wanted is what was thrown at me, rather suddenly and without anticipation or trying. I’m not married,” she did feel Jack tense up at that one, but that was a different conversation for another time, “I never wanted kids or any of it, and it just seems… I want to tell her my news, but it seems mean and as though I would be throwing it in her face-- and I don’t want her to hate me or resent me in anyway. I’m going to need her if I’m going to get through this. She is like a sister to me, I don’t want to hurt her.”

Jack pulled her in tighter, not sure how to comfort her or fix this. “I can understand that, it would probably be quite a shock to her, I expect it is going to be a shock to quite a few people, it certainly was to me.” He smiled, kissing her forehead. “But I’m guessing that those who love you, especially someone like Mrs. Collins who believes you are her personal Savior, so to speak, well, I believe the initial shock is likely to quickly fade into sincere joy and excitement-- just as it did for me. For, who that loves you could possibly be upset at the possibility of a miniature of you running about, ordering people around, solving every stranger's slightest problem and bring smiles and sunshine wherever they go... We should all be a bit terrified at the idea of there being two of you, but excited for the day much the same.”

No matter how much she tried to escape his love, his opinions, his feelings, she would always be drawn back to him, like a moth to a flame, because he not only understood her, but he loved her for who she is, deep down- despite all of her many flaws and the things that make her so exasperating sometimes, he loved every aspect of her. He didn’t want to change her, he only wanted to be a part of her universe, to come along for the ride. How could she have known that there was this kind of love out there, why had she been running away from it all for so long, thinking love was about possessing and changing and dominating?

She began tracing her fingers along his thigh, no particular pattern in mind, just drawing random swirls and boxes against the dark gray flannel of his trousers. She felt his thigh tense up, his breath caught, his heart began beating slightly faster at her touch. She loved the way he got so excited at her touch, the merest movement from her and he responded.

“Mmmm.” He hummed a soft and low sound of pleasure, not overly erotic, more comfortable than anything else. She began to widen the territory she was touching, just barely brushing against his waistband and noticing that there was a growing hardness there, one that she decided to encourage by stroking over the fabric as he groaned softly. “Phryne, dinner should be ready shortly.”

“So will I, Jack. I don’t think what I have in mind is going to take particularly long. I’m sure we could be upstairs and back in plenty of time for a nice, hot meal.” She turned to face him, her long lashes framing her large, seductive eyes. He brought his lips to her, kissing her, then nibbling her bottom lip briefly, this time making her moan. He moved his hand along the side of her waist and thigh, hitching her skirt up slightly so his hand was brushing against the soft velvet that was her skin, just barely at the line where her stockings ended and she began. She sucked in her breath as he began to kiss and bite his way down her neck, brushing the strap of her dress off the shoulder as he got there, wanting to make sure he didn’t miss an inch of her body with his mouth.

“Miss Fisher, I think perhaps we should take this upstairs. However, I think I may want more than 10 minutes so I can take my time with you. Do you suppose Mr. Butler could possibly keep the food warm a bit longer?” He moved his mouth to the top of her breast, just barely visible from the fallen strap, circling his tongue against her flesh.

“He is a consummate professional, Jack…but even if he can't, I don’t much care if its cold by the time we get to it.” She stood up, grabbed his hand and moved to hurry to her room, Jack practically running behind her.

As soon as they entered the room and the door shut behind them, her hands were all over him, moving to undress him as quickly as possible-- maybe he wanted to take his time with her, but she was feeling a strong need to have him now. They made quick work of each other’s outfits and fell into the bed. She was pushing him back, straddling him, moving to pull him inside of her.

“Phryne, slow down, you don’t have to go so quickly…” and she sank onto him, she was incredibly wet and warm, allowing him to slide in easily, perfectly, snugly. “Oh, God, you feel amazing!”

“So do you, Jack. Oooh, so do you.” She began moving against him, riding him, alternating between rising and falling on him and grinding back and forth. He reached up, caressing her breasts, tweaking her nipples, just wanting to feel his hands along her skin and for her, his touch left trails of fire along her body. They fell into a rhythm, fast, but not rough. She leaned over him, kissing him, licking his nipples, lightly biting his shoulder and collarbone.

“Jack, I love you. I love you so much.” She whispered against his skins, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine.

“I love you too, I love you Phryne. I love you more than anything, I want to spend the rest of my life inside you.”

“God yes, please Jack. Please. You feel amazing… you feel so amazing.” She began to feel herself reach her climax. “Oh fuck Jack, fuck me, oh God!” She felt it crash over her, she shuddered, she bit into his shoulder again, this time to try and keep from crying out too loud. She had to pause briefly in her movements, needing to catch her breath as she finished. Then all she wanted to do was feel him come inside her, feel his orgasm, make it as powerful as what she had just experienced-- she hadn’t even needed to use her hand or his to get there, it was just him, he was all that she needed. She began riding him again, faster, trying to bring him deeper and deeper inside of her. She clenched her walls around him, clenching and releasing as she moved up and down on him. After only a moment she began to feel his breath pick up, his moaning was becoming deeper. She knew he was getting close and that knowledge only spurred her on.

“Oh, God, yes, Phryne… I’m going to, I think I’m going to …” he trailed off as he felt his climax coming on, not paying attention to how loud he may be calling out from the sensation-- which drove Phryne over the edge yet again, she joined him in his climax and they both shuddered in extreme pleasure before she collapsed on top of him, both of them trying to catch their breath and keep their hearts from exploding out of their chests. She rolled onto her side, but brought him with her, not wanting to be without his touch for even a second. He acquiesced easily, wanting to hold her as well.

“God, Phryne, I love you. I hope that you know exactly how much.”

“Jack, I have never been so sure of anything in my life as I am of your love for me. Its why I know we’re going to be just fine-- me, you and little Beatrice or Benedick.”

“Beatrice or Benedick?”

“Or perhaps Oberon and Titania?”

“Are you suggesting that you are going to give birth to the king or queen of fairies?” He smiled at the idea for a moment-- Phryne had a certain regalness to her bearing, there was a strong chance her child would have that as well. But he wasn't so sure about fairies, he would probably think of her more as Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons. Or, Puck- the ultimate mischief-maker. The names were completely absurd, but he loved that she was talking about this, that she seemed happy and was joking about names and boy or girl-- it all felt so deliciously cozy and normal and wonderful. “Titania Fisher… that has an interesting ring to it.”

“Robinson.”

“Pardon?”

“It would be Titania Robinson, not Fisher.”

“But…” It was generally custom for an unwed mother to give the child her last name. True, they hadn’t addressed the question of whether she planned to be an unwed mother yet, but he was beyond assuming anything about her and what she may or may not want to do in terms of their family. And it was unlikely that they would find a church willing to marry them-- a pregnant woman and a divorced man. He had heard of couples choosing to live together as though they are married, but it was still generally scandalous for anyone who wasn't living in some bohemian artists' commune and he wasn't sure how much of his reputation or even career he would be able to salvage. A bastard child they could probably find a way to weather through, but living in sin with a titled heiress and an illegitimate child, with his last name? That seemed a bit much for the citizens of Melbourne to tolerate. 

She propped herself up on her side, her hand under her cheek, her elbow at a 90 degree angle. Her usually sleek, raven-black bob was slightly mussed and she had a rosy glow from their recent bout of activity.

“I told you I spoke with my solicitor today, did I not? I told him about my condition and our situation, and asked him what my.. sorry, what OUR options are. He explained to me this concept… something Latin, Mater semper…”

“Mater semper certa est.” He interrupted her.

“Jack, you speak Latin?”

“Generally, no, but I’ve come up against that term in cases before.”

“Ah, I see. Well, essentially, it means that it is up to me to name the father of the child and the law will give me the benefit of the doubt, absent any competing or contrary evidence you may want to present. I suppose you won’t be contesting whether the child is yours?”

Jack was a bit flummoxed, albeit not that unusual a state when speaking with her. “I… I don’t suppose I will, no.”

“Good, it’s decided then. We are going to need to find a name for our son or daughter that works well with Robinson.” They lay there, enjoying the comfort of being together and recuperating from their particularly satisfying lovemaking session just now. But there was something niggling at the back of Jack’s mind, it was difficult to push it away.

“So you have told Mac and you have told your Solicitor.”

“Well, technically, I suppose Mac told me.”

“True enough. But, when should we start telling people? Our family and friends?”

Phryne sat up, it was probably time to dress and return downstairs for dinner-- she smelled roasted chicken wafting up to her, and she suddenly realized that she was starving, again. She moved to find her knickers and dress… where had that stupid dress landed when he practically tore it off her? As she dressed she responded,

“Well, I suppose we’re going to have to do that sooner than later, but Mac did suggest most couples wait another month or so… that way, in case-- in case anything goes wrong, we don’t have to tell at all.” She looked away from Jack, she knew the idea of it going wrong, of a miscarriage, ran through his mind, and she had been through one already, it was not pleasant in the least-- physically or emotionally. “But Mac did say that I’m almost obnoxiously healthy, as you know, and she doesn’t foresee any problems.”

“Even with your, uh, history?”

“I asked about that, she said that was mostly due to trauma and stress, so it shouldn’t have any bearing on this baby.” She was getting more used to that term-- the idea of it. It was possible that by the time she actually gave birth, she could be ready for it-- possible, but she didn’t know how probable it was.

“Well, it still seems reasonable to give us some time to adjust, to sort it all out. So perhaps we should stay quiet for the time being. We have a few more things to talk about with all of this before inviting too many questions we don’t know the answers to.” More questions they had to work through, but he wanted to just enjoy the moment right now. And he thought that the smell of Mr. Butler's Roasted Chicken Dijonnaise smelled heavenly.


	8. Every Woman is a Rebel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Every woman is a rebel, and usually in wild revolt against herself.” Oscar Wilde

Dr. Mac walked into the parlour where Phryne had been sipping tea and trying to read a book; waiting for Jack to be done with work and all of his paperwork and show up for the evening. He generally did these days, after work. In fact, she wasn’t entirely clear on why he had still had his own place, there was more than enough room for him at 221b, it was just silly that he tried to maintain the appearance of virtue and chastity. Or at least, it would be ridiculous once Phryne began to show. Thank God for these modern flapper fashions and their ability hide minor expansions.

“Phryne, girl, I have some information for your lovely, if overly docile companion, is she still here?” Phryne looked up from the book she had not been at all able to focus on. 

“Mac, how lovely to see you! I’m afraid Dot is not here, she leaves by 5:30 most days so she can have dinner ready for Hugh. I hope its good news that you bring?”

“Phryne, you know that I can’t discuss such things with you,only with my patient. But I have information for her on some recent treatment methods and research that I think will be invaluable to her. It seems that scientists have recently been conducting quite a bit of research into this concept of hormones, and how they may be used to encourage pregnancy. It seems that we may have been mistaken as to when women are most fertile, it may be that it is the midpoint between their cycles in which they are most likely to conceive. Without sharing out of turn, I believe that maybe she has been trying to confine their procreative efforts to immediately before her cycle. If these doctors are correct, that would be absolutely counterproductive in this case.”

“Confine their efforts to only a few days each month? Why would anyone wish to do that?”  
“Lord only knows my girl. But there are many who believe if you are having trouble with conception that the male seed must be… concentrated.”

“But that seems absurd! Trust me when I tell you there was no concentration, so to speak, with the Inspector and I; frequency seems much more likely to have been my downfall.”

“Well, I generally recommend to couples that they focus more on quantity, rather than quality when it comes to marital matters-- it has generally seemed more successful for my patients.” Mac looked at her friend, who despite seeming a bit more pale than normal- most likely from the morning sickness, actually looked quite well. She hadn’t really begun to gain weight, but was ever so slightly rounder than she was used to seeing-- less angular. “And how are you doing? Is the morning sickness subsiding?”

“It does seem, finally, to be dissipating, but I find that I’m always hungry, so without the morning nausea and extreme fatigue, I have no idea how I will hold onto my figure in the least. And poor Jack, my emotions have been rather mercurial. Last night he stumbled upon me right after a note that my mother had her appendix out, she was perfectly fine, but I was convinced I had no choice but to get into my plane and fly all the way to New York City or, somehow, she would die and it was all my fault.”

“You know, I think you must be Cleopatra, Colette and Evelyn Fucking Nesbitt all rolled into one-- the things you must do to that man in private have to be absolutely extraordinary, otherwise, I have no idea why he stays around for you sometimes, between your mood swings and impossibly stubborn nature.”

“Did it never occur to you that he loves me that much?”

“Phryne, don’t you understand that every man who has ever met you is madly in love with you? But they, lucky for them, usually only your best sides and more enticing qualities. They are in love with the goddess that is you… somehow this Inspector of yours seems to love you for, let us say for your more mortal side-- and that, believe me, can be an acquired taste.” Mac winked at her dearest friend, so happy that she had found this man- a bit of a balance to Phryne’s usual self… but constantly concerned that she was going to wreck her almost disgusting level of happiness because she was so stubborn and ridiculous about some things.

“Mac? Can I ask you something?” Phryne’s voice was quite hesitant, which was not at all usual.

“You may, if you pour me a glass of brandy while you do so.” Of course. As she moved to retrieve two of the heavy, cut crystal glasses at the bar and moved towards the decanter to pour, one for each of them. While she wasn’t looking at Mac she asked her question.

“If you had the option to marry the love of your life, would you? Knowing it would change everything between you? Introducing concepts of obligation, obeisance and permanence? She turned to hand Mac the glass. 

Accepting the snifter of brandy, Mac looked at her, “I’m sorry, I don’t think that I quite follow you.”

“Mac. You know how deeply I care for Jack, and to be honest with you, it seems almost impossible to imagine a life that doesn’t have him as part of it. And now that we are having this child together, meaning we’re inextricably linked-- there is no “out” anymore, it’s a fait accompli. But, I already feel as though I’m not acting like myself-- if the Phryne of 5 years ago saw me now, she’d be mortified! What happened to my open and free attitude towards everything? My devil-may-care sangfroid?”

“And do you regret that? Do you actually regret the monogamy and the intimacy of your relationship? Would you really prefer to be entertaining a long line of tango dancers, tango instructors, Italian chefs, college scullers and mediocer post-Impressionist artists?”

“That’s not at all what I’m saying and you should know that better than anyone! But you have to admit that having been so happy for 6-12 months is nothing like being that happy for a lifetime. What are the chances that this kind of love and trust and contentment can actually last?

“What I know is that being with someone with whom you have that kind of connection-- someone with whom you actually want to spend time talking and fighting and doing nothing at all-- as opposed to ONLY endless romps in the sack… finding that kind of connection is so incredibly rare that it should be clung to with every ounce of power in you.”

Phryne found herself tearing up, admittedly not an uncommon occurrence in her life in the last two months or so, and something that made keeping her condition secret from those closest to her--Dot, Mr. B and Jane, incredibly difficult.  
“Oh, Mac… do you mean, are you speaking of Daisy?”

Waving off her friend's concern she responded, “Its not that I’m speaking of anyone in particular. I’m only trying to say that people don’t often find such a mate, with whom they are so happy and well treated and beloved. It seems that finding that in one man, in one person, I have to ask--why wouldn’t you be begging for this man to be there for you, every day of the rest of your life?”

“Well, for one thing, I’m hardly the begging type.”

“Phryne, this isn’t particularly funny to me, if you wouldn’t mind staying serious. I have seen how much you love Jack Robinson. Blind men could see how much he loves you. But what I don’t understand is that you have decided to carry his child! What could possibly be the stumbling block now?”

“There is no stumbling block, I desperately want to be with Jack! Why can’t that be enough for him?”

“Phryne, what else could be his hesitation? What else could possibly upset him? Do you think that this brilliant, logical man actually thinks that vows like “serve” and “obey” matter? He doesn’t want marriage so he suddenly has the upper hand and can control you! If that is what you think of him, then you may actually be right that you two have no future, because maybe you don’t know him nearly as well as you like to pretend you do. But, I honestly think it is more likely that you simply are a stubbornly insane woman who can’t entertain contradictory theories to YOUR personally preconceived notions!”

“Phryne, I adore you and you know that. But I have to admit that your willingness to have a child with a man but NOT give that man the thing he truly craves-- to not think of marrying him, thereby admitting that you are permanently tied to him, because of course, a CHILD doesn’t do that… It is actually incredibly stupid and I don’t know how to react to it. You are either much stupider than I ever thought, or infinitely more stubborn than I imagined possible. I do not think that your happiness hinges on marriage. But I wonder if maybe he’s traditional enough, that his does? When are you going to actually realize that this isn’t just about you? When are you going to try and take his feelings into account? All he wants is that his family, such as it is, be recognized by the law that he has chosen to serve, protect and uphold.”

“Mac!” She was crying at this point, heavily actually, at this conversation. “That isn’t fair! I’m having his child, aren’t I?”

“And that’s exactly what I mean! You’re still keeping score! And you having his child will keep you ahead of him for quite sometime, won’t it?”

“What?”

“You’re doing this as a favor to him, hoping it quashes his wants and needs for the next, what, 6 years? 10 years? You have a free pass for a while, don’t you? Why should you be made to do anything else he wants for quite some time and you can always use that exact excuse. No, I’m sorry Phryne, but I can sit here and watch you throw away the best things that have ever happened to you, or I can actually be your friend!” 

“You can’t come to terms with the fact that even if this child was unplanned, it doesn’t mean it is unwanted. And I think that until you do, you’re going to have trouble with your relationship with the Inspector. You have always known him to be a serious man. How can you so easily imagine him being happy with half a family? Not to mention that he’s a careful man who cares a great deal about convention. Do you know that if you bled out and died, while having this child, Jack’s claim to the child would be practically impossible to prove? Or if you at some point actually succeed in wrecking your car with the child in it, and you’re both in need of life-saving surgery, Jack has no jurisdiction there? You can draw up legal contracts saying the opposite, but HOW is that actually an improvement upon just marrying the man and giving him all of that, which he wants so dearly? Because the only thing I’ve ever been able to think of as a reason to not give him that is narcissism or fear. Probably both. But it is at least one or the other and neither is the Phryne Fisher I know and love. You’re terrified. I don’t blame you, the idea of actually letting this man know that you’ve decided you may have been wrong in the past... That you judged prematurely, you have unnecessarily carried about this card of hurt and anger long enough and it’s time to let it all go” 

Mac felt placated at least, this had been bothering her at least since she had determined that Phryne was pregnant, if not before. She loved this woman, a great deal actually. But this headstrong and clever woman sometimes didn’t seem to know her own mind until something horrible happened, and she didn’t want to subject her to that again. It wasn’t that marriage was likely to be such a great solution to all of her problems, but her inability to discuss the issue seemed to be insanity, and that was what would ruin her amazing relationship of which Mac was so jealous. 

After all, Mac had only been in love a precious few times in her life, most recently with her Daisy. Every single time had been something Mac should have worked harder, fought harder to try and hold on to-- every single time she had allowed herself to lose and had never felt nearly as whole as when she was with those women. She wanted to find a way to help her friend see the happiness in front of her without it seeming to be a burden, so that she didn’t feel the holes of regret and waste in her life like Mac sometimes did. 

“Phryne, my dear. I’m only happy you have found happiness, and I hope that you remain so happy forever, no one deserves it more. I just hope that you can find a way to make sure your Inspector is absolutely as happy as you are. So long as that is your concern, I’m sure you two will be fine.” She raised her glass in toast to her friend, hoping they found a way to navigate this emotional minefield.


	9. Strangled Impulses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Every impulse we strangle will only poison us.” Oscar Wilde
> 
> In which Jack's frustration is beginning to wear on him.

Jack Robinson had no idea what to do. It had been three weeks since Phryne Fisher had told him that she was carrying his baby, definitively. It had been confirmed by Mac by the aid of one marmalade colored rabbit he tried not to think of, since, as a boy he had a pet rabbit he called George (despite the fact the rabbit had actually been a girl). 

She had told him that she wanted the child, wanted to be a “family”, in fact she planned to give the child his surname, publicly acknowledging him as the father. But she had given no indication that she was at all receptive to the idea of marriage. She had actually, in passing, mentioned this new concept of “companionate marriage”, wherein they could be legally joined, but on a trial basis at first without an automatic transfer of property, there was no use terms like “obey” or “forever” in the vows…It also allowed for easy outs if either person, at any time, decided it was not what they wanted; express lane to a divorce. 

He didn’t give a damn about any of those things! He didn’t want her money or her title or even ownership of her body in perpetuity-- he just wanted to be with her, and to have her recognize that she wanted him, and only him. He wanted to give their child a true family, and he definitely wasn’t happy at the idea that his child could be labeled an illegitimate bastard-- that was a stigma no child should have to deal with, especially a child who has two parents who are in love and want to be together and not the result of one mistaken night.

He was thoroughly confounded by the woman. Despite his usual interest in being fully forthright and cutting to the chase, seven nights in a row he had entered her home, determined to force the conversation. Every one of those nights he had been completely unable to broach the subject. After all, how does a man ask a woman, “so, now that you are carrying my bastard child, and seeing as how we seem to be very much in love, are you willing to forego everyone of your very loudly voiced preconceived notions on the subject of marriage and be my wife? Most likely in a strictly legal sense, as there isn’t an obvious choice for a religion that would happily take in a divorced man and a staunchly irreligious woman in a fairly delicate state to declare them husband and wife in front of God.” 

He was trying very hard to be patient. He knew that she was dealing with a lot. She was still having severe bouts of morning sickness, although they did seem to be dissipating somewhat; her emotions were in constant states of fluctuation-- she could literally go from laughing to sobbing within 15 seconds; and she was still trying to come to terms with this concept of having a baby-- how she would negotiate the entire situation she had never wanted before. And she had made massive (for her) steps towards trying to let him in, and he was grateful for that. Giving the baby his last name was her attempt at showing him that she didn’t care if they were married or not, they were a family. 

He knew he had been sitting in his car outside of her house for at least 15 minutes. He needed to talk about this, even if they didn’t come to an agreement tonight, they needed to talk about it. Dammit, they couldn’t always have it be this way-- they were in a relationship, they were having a child together, he needed to be a partner in their lives. But two nights before, he had arrived and she was feeling particularly amorous, she had practically mounted him in the hallway and it was all he could do to get her up to the bedroom before… In all due fairness, that night he had been rather willing to go along with it, there had been certain moments of truly exceptional sensations. He had not known it was possible for a man to climax twice from the same one act, and yet, Phryne was a woman who loved to defy everything, including biology. 

But he had gone into the house last night, determined to have it out and she was sobbing-- her mother had had her appendix out and she was terrified for her health, was even talking about flying that damned plane of hers all the way to New York where her parents were, as part of their tour of America. She was a bundle of chaos, one minute she was sobbing over the telegram (MOTHER’S APPENDIX REMOVED STOP SHE IS WELL STOP TWO WEEKS LEFT IN NY THEN HOME STOP AMERICA IS LOUD AND FILTHY AND THE WHISKEY IS ILLEGAL AND BAD STOP LOVE FATHER STOP); the next minute she was looking for an almanac and flight atlas. 

He had felt entirely helpless at that point, he had no idea what to do with her in this state. She was generally so self-possessed and often hyper-rational, even if she tended towards impulsive behaviors, they always had a well-considered context. It took almost an hour for him to convince her that 1) her mother was perfectly well and that even if there was an issue (and then it was 15 minutes of sobbing at that possibility) she would never make it to New York in time to see her and 2) in her condition, she could hardly be traipsing about the world from the skies. She had to think about her health and the health of the baby. That had, of course, led her to weep over the possibility that her mother may never meet her only grandchild because of her untimely demise… This was not going to be an easy pregnancy for Jack to survive, it didn’t seem to matter what he said, it was usually the wrong thing.

And that was why he was cowardly sitting in his station car when he saw Dr. MacMillan leaving house, and then he could see Phryne’s silhouette in the window of Wardlow’s parlour. He looked at his watch and realized it was just stupid how much time he had spent sitting out front. And how much did it really matter how the conversation went? He wasn’t angry with the fact that she wouldn’t marry him (hypothetically, since it hadn’t been a conversation at all, yet-- only assumption), but that she wouldn’t discuss it, listen to how he felt on the subject; it just felt so incredibly one-sided! 

This was his child too, his family, after all. Was he supposed to just pack up his house, move into her’s, give the child whatever name she wanted, and forever live according to her instructions? But what really made him angry, furious, really, was that he knew if those were the terms of being with her, he absolutely would take them and stick around. He was frustrated and upset, but he couldn’t imagine what would make him walk away-- not from their child, but especially not from her. 

Damn that woman and her maddening self, she was beautiful and bewitching and completely in love with him, and he knew he was unlikely to ever be happy without her in his life, on any terms. Annoyed with himself more than with her, he got out of the car and headed in, knowing that tonight wasn’t going to be the night they finally discussed it all, but he knew they would. Probably not tonight, but they would get there, this was somewhat new territory for them both, he knew they each needed time. But dammit if it wasn’t frustrating as hell to wait for that woman to realize how much he loved her… and that no matter how much she may continue to fight it, they were the perfect team.


	10. A Definite Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I really don't see anything romantic in proposing. It is very romantic to be in love. But there is nothing romantic about a definite proposal. Why, one may be accepted. One usually is, I believe. Then the excitement is all over. The very essence of romance is uncertainty. If ever I get married, I'll certainly try to forget the fact.” Oscar Wilde

Phryne had been preoccupied all during dinner, stewing over what Mac had said before she left. Sometimes the worst part of having a brilliant best friend is that they saw everything you didn't want to see yourself, and occasionally pointed it out to you. Mac was right, and she KNEW Mac was right. She was being an idiot, once she decided to have a child with Jack, the rest should have been a done deal. She was a Lady, no matter how progressive and liberal she wanted to be, there were certain things she just couldn't quite bring herself to do, such as live with her lover and their lovechild-- not even she had quite enough money that her social life would survive it, and she knew the thought of it was likely to kill Jack. He liked things done right, he wasn't embarrassed by her pregnancy, only wanted give every one of them the protection and shield of legitimacy, to do things the right way and be a proper family. And she thought, briefly, to the drama Jane had been privy to at school over the idea that she's a ward with no father to speak of and her mother... kids could be horrible, and the thought of her child going through that made her heart ache. But knowing she was wrong and being able to admit that she was wrong were two very different things. She'd like just a few more days before she had to eat her own words. 

To try and keep from thinking about the issue, when Jack asked if she had heard from her mother, how was she doing since her surgery? Distracted, she didn't think before responding that she was doing so well they were thinking of spending some time in Australia next year. Her mother thought maybe they should return to England shortly, where they would spend the holidays, and then in the New Year they could come and spend the Spring and Summer in Melbourne. Phryne’s mother had not been back since Phryne was 12, she wanted to see her sister Prudence, her daughter, and, of course, Janey’s grave. That's when his face went a bit gray as he did the math on when that just might happen.

It didn’t take much calculating to realize that her parents would be there about the same time the baby was born. While perhaps the Baron was not one to administer lectures on morality, it seemed that it could be an awkward meeting for all concerned. But at that moment, when Jack was just about to confront her, she received a phone call from Jane’s school about some meeting or other Phryne had to discuss Jane’s applications to university-- essentially a meeting where she would be asked for some sort of charitable gift in order to ensure they were helpful in getting Jane into one of the schools of her choice next year. By the time Phryne came back in she seemed annoyed with the school and its endless money grubbing and time-wasting events she was often forced to participate in; it didn’t seem an ideal time to discuss other matters likely to upset her. 

After dinner that night and Jack and Phryne were having an uncharacteristically calm night in, curled up on the sofa, her legs draped over his lap as they listened to Duke Ellington records and read. It was the very picture of quiet, contented domestic bliss. Jack was enjoying The Sun Also Rises, thinking how much he liked Hemingway's style of being direct and brief.  
Phryne, for her part, was pretending to read a book of poetry by a Chilean poet she generally enjoyed. Pablo Neruda’s style was extremely modern and sensual; for her he salvaged the concept of poetry from the drippy, overly romantic saccharine qualities of so many other classical poets. Unfortunately, tonight she found herself distracted by Jack, not so much due to the blatant eroticism in the poet’s words, but the fact that Jack was was able to sit right next to her and read his Hemingway, as though she wasn’t even in the room! She had a long day, and for her, there was one surefire way to improve on that and relax. She had put on deep and primitive jazz orchestras, plied him with her best cognac and posed herself in exactly the most alluring way in the most accommodating piece of furniture she had-- the velvet chaise lounge. Her arm was arched behind her, her legs propped up on his lap, it was as though she was begging him to take her. 

But, despite her best efforts, it was quiet. Much too quiet in the room for Phryne’s tastes. Jack seemed perfectly happy to sit there and read while he absent-mindedly stroked her ankle, very softly, not at all erotically-- she had never been a particularly patient woman, and somehow pregnancy had not really improved her in that respect.

“Jack?”

“Yes Phryne?” She had a suspiciously coquettish tone to her voice that he never trusted. 

“I’m not entirely sure I’m translating this Neruda correctly. I’ll admit my Spanish is not nearly as good as my Russian or my French… it’s really only on par with my Mandarin, which is somewhat embarrassing.” Only this woman would ever believe that not being fluent in five languages was such a deficiency. “May I ask if this sounds alright to you? Do you believe it has sufficient literary merit to be a fluid translation of the piece?”

“I dont know if I’m the one to help you evaluate modern poetry. I’m afraid my language skills are not strong, and I prefer the sonnets of the Bard to anything by Hughes or Cummings.”

“I’m simply trying to determine whether my translation seems at all coherent in English. Tell me, does this sound like something a lover would say?” Her voice dropped to that throaty, seductive one she used to extremely good effect with Jack, she had an impressive track record on getting him distracted when she spoke like that. “‘My words rained over you, stroking you. A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body. Until I even believe that you own the universe.I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.’ What do you think, Jack? Have you ever wanted to do to a woman what ‘spring does with the cherry trees?” She gave him her absolute most provocative look, her thick, dark eyelashes perfectly framing her lusty eyes, her cerise lips glistening from her lipstick and in such a pout it was almost impossible to NOT imagine them encircling his…

“That, umm, seems to be a very well-done translation. It seems you’ve been hiding your skills with the Spanish language. Have you ever attempted Don Quixote? I always thought that if I could speak the language I would love to revisit that tome in the original dialect.” He was not going to take the bait. He was determined they would talk about things tonight, but he hadn’t figured out yet how to bring up the subject and if he let her seduce him, he knew it wouldn’t happen that night at all. 

“Well you know, there was this matador once, right after the war, before Paris. He taught me quite a few useful phrases.” She was pushing the limits, he really did not enjoy hearing these stories and historically had chosen to silence her with very physical means-- deciding it was usually helpful to simply redirect the use of her lips. But he refused to take the bait, yet again, just tried to look unaffected, as though he really was reading his book. That’s when she gave up on trying to use words herself, to take a much more direct approach. She swung her feet off the chaise and leaned towards him, moving into his lips, wanting to taste that dimple on his chin, right under the bottom lip… 

The thing he needed to keep reminding himself of was that, with her, there usually would never be a “natural” segue to this kind of a conversation. No, it was time he stopped wimping out and started the conversation, knowing it was going to be awkward and uncomfortable, but hopefully would start moving the discussion forward. She was going to start showing any time and they needed to start telling at least Dot and Jane and his family… and he didn’t want to do that without an answer to the question he knew they would get more than any other.

“Phryne, stop that! Please. I think that we should talk.” That got her to stop and sit up, looking a little hurt, but mostly surprised. His voice was all business-- not harsh, just serious. She was not at all used to being rejected by him when she made any advances towards him, much less three excellent ones! 

“My apologies, Jack, that you aren’t a fan of Neruda. I was actually hoping you would find it alluring, but if his modern tone is not to your taste…”

“Why does it always have to be about my lack of modern tone, Miss Fisher?” He looked into her eyes with his eyes full of steely flint. “Sometimes a more traditional sonnet is precisely what is in order for lovers, there is a reason the Bard has been considered the greatest writer in history for hundreds of years-- sometimes it isn’t old-fashioned, it’s actually just a classic.”

“Jack, what on earth is wrong? I was merely trying to stir up a little romance.”

“I know, Phryne, of course I know. I just...I’m sorry, but I don’t really feel like holding this in any longer, I literally feel as though I’m going to explode soon if we don’t have this conversation-- get it all out in the air.” He stood up from the chaise, almost violently, what the hell was happening right now? He was pacing around her parlour as she watched. 

“Jack… I’m sorry if you’re upset right now. If you would just calm down and tell me what is wrong…”

“What is wrong? Phryne-- we have known for about a month now that we’re going to have a child together. And in that time, I’ve tried to broach the subject of what happens next, and every single time I even begin a conversation about… well, about us getting married,” She breathed in sharply. It wasn’t that she was surprised this was the problem, she’d been particularly vigilant about trying to shut down most serious conversations later, worrying this was coming. But then, the last few days, and today’s conversation with Mac… well, maybe she was starting to come around. “But you always counter with quotes from famous sociologists about the dysfunction of modern marriage or wave your hand and declare that everything is going to be settled by your solicitors so there is no reason to worry about the legalities of everything… so its obviously a pointless tradition and… I’m...just…” 

“Well, we have been together, officially, for how long? Seven months? Before that you were flying to and from London and you and I were together but not together… And, now, we’re having a child. With all that we have happening… Do you understand how this makes me feel? You’re willing to have a baby with me, but I’m not allowed to want to marry you? Or expect that we would get married when you made that decision? Or, for that matter, even discuss the concept of getting married, ever? Why? You ‘aren’t the marrying type!’? Aren’t you the one who taught me to despise labels and what they mean? Why is it so wrong that I want this? Why are you still looking for an out from this relationship?”

Phryne looked as though she had been struck. Jack was at least 6 or 7 feet away from her, his pacing hadn’t been particularly angry, just energetic. She looked as though someone had wounded her to the core. She had known that this fight was coming, this conversation was going to occur sooner or later, but she had not for a second thought about what her comments must have looked like, felt like, to Jack. She took in a deep breath to calm herself, trying to think from his perspective and allay his fears.

“You think that I’m looking for an out? Do you really think that I’m having your child but I’m still looking for a way to eventually be released from you? Don’t you see how my deciding to do this, with you, is the most I could ever do to say to you that I want to be with you, always?”

“I don’t know what to think, Phryne! What should I think right now? You love me, you say that you WANT a child with me, and yet you still want to pretend that things are the same as they ever were between us-- do you understand that we’re going to be a family either way? Why is it so insane that I want that to feel… official? Phryne, I lived through the possibility of your death before… twice, actually! Can you imagine how it feels to know that I cannot do anything about it, that I have no legal or social standing to be considered as your family? That I have no say or right to you or to our child in a long list of situations? Is it just the word, “marriage”? Is it to do with your parents or your childhood or anything that makes the idea of us publicly declaring to the world that are we are a family? Why can’t you just let me in? Help me see what it is that’s the problem so we can try and find a solution that works for both of us?”

He was almost at his breaking point. He didn’t know if he was more likely to cry or to scream or something else entirely-- he just felt as though he was at his wits end. Perhaps she never actually would be his wife, perhaps that was actually outside of her abilities, but if that was true, what would he do? 

“Jack, I…”

“Phryne, please don’t give me any more excuses or social platitudes.” He sighed and sat down across from her, his hands running through his hair, a gesture of frustration for him, he had gotten it off his chest, and now he was unsure of his next move. “I don’t know what I want right now, I guess I just…”

“Jack, I don’t want to give you excuses. I’m actually, if you would let me get a word in edgewise, trying to ask you to marry me.”

Jack Robinson froze, completely. He honestly didn’t think that he could move if a monster entered the room right then, threatening to kill him or Phryne. His ears were ringing, he eyes were unfocused but seemed blank, he wasn’t even blinking-- she couldn’t even be certain that he was still breathing until he spoke.

“Miss Fisher, I’m afraid I didn’t understand what you just… I’m sorry, but what exactly did you just say?”

She knew that she could prolong the moment so she could relish the look on his face, she could almost SEE the wheels in his mind turning, trying to figure out what happened. Somehow, though, that seemed entirely unfair. Trying not to smile too smugly, she continued. 

“Jack, I think you’re right, actually. Even in the confusion and anxiety I have felt through this entire experience, not a moment of it has been about you or about us. I’m terrified of being a mother, I worry about our child, our family,I’ve been very anxious about having this exact conversation… But never for a moment did I worry about you and I being together for the rest of our lives-- disgustingly happy and in love.”

“And didn’t I promise you that I was trying to think about you more, about us? Its not the easiest concept for me to grasp, but I am working so hard to make you feel as though I’m bringing you in, including you in decisions and conversations and planning. I’m not going to insist on anything or beg for anything. I have no idea what a Fisher-Robinson marriage would look like, but I do understand what it would mean for you and for our child. And I know the issues that may arise if he or she were born illegitimately, and don’t relish that for our child; Mac made me see earlier that just because the child was unexpected, it doesn’t mean they are unwanted. Our child is unexpected, but is going to be so loved they won’t know anything but adoration and comfort and will most likely grow up to be a very spoiled little brat.” She was drifting off into a slightly daydreamy state, something she’d been doing more and more lately as she thought of the baby. It was still difficult sometimes to get excited about the concept of nappies and breast feeding and nurses and all of that, but sometimes she’d think about how much of Jane’s life she had missed before finding her on that train, and she was excited to see the whole thing this time, not just from the age of 12.

“I still bristle a bit at the idea that only a magistrate or a priest can officially declare us a family-- to hell with that, if we say we are, that should be good enough.But I would be naive if I believed that subverting the norm would make things easier for any of us. Because it won’t.Just as getting married won’t be at all what keeps us together as a family.” That one made Jack wince-- he knew better than anyone that marriage vows and a license wasn’t a guarantee of anything lasting. “But I think that if I’m going in for a penny, I may as well go in for that whole damned pound.” She looked at him with a great deal of confidence, much more than she could have imagined she would feel in this conversation, but she wasn’t faking any of it… well, not much, anyways.

Cautiously, smiling, but trying not to get carried away, Jack responded, “So, are you saying that you are actually thinking about… you’re really contemplating marrying me?” Jack really didn’t think that he was hearing what he seemed to be hearing, was this some kind of illusion? Was she just being contrary to make him go mad?

“Jack, I’m not saying I’m contemplating it, I’m actually outright saying that I think we should get married. And very soon.” The smile on her face was so sincere, she looked so happy and calm about it. Jack moved to her, across the room in about three steps, pulling her up from the chaise and to him in a deep and passionate kiss. His mouth found hers, his tongue battled hers and neither cared about anything so mundane as trying to breathe. After a moment or two she came up for air, regretting every second that his lips weren’t on hers, “So, Jack, does this mean that you are saying yes?”

“Yes to what, Miss Fisher?”

This time she pulled further away from him, slightly less enamored of his body. “To what? To my, albeit somewhat haphazard and not particularly romantic or sentimental proposal.”

“That was a proposal, are you quite certain? Perhaps you should say it again... ” He moved in to kiss her eyelids, her cheeks, her forehead, her neck… as he trailed his way down her soft and creamy skin, he followed neck all the way down the taught, porcelain-like flesh, his lips meeting her collarbone, her shoulder, then brushing her dress strap down so that he had better access to breast. 

Phryne’s breasts may seem smaller than average to the layman, but to him, especially with the bloom of her pregnancy beginning to show a certain glow, they seemed plump, ripe and impossible to not kiss and suck on-- and he had no desire to try and resist. She was trying to ignore the incredible thing his tongue was doing to her left breast so she could try to focus on this conversation… “Jack, ooooooo” That was a bit rougher than he would usually bite there, but good God did it feel incredible. She pushed herself away arms outstretched, keeping him at a safe distance. 

“Now who is trying to distract whom from having a serious conversation?” 

“My apologies Phryne, it won’t happen again. I will sit here and behave like the perfect gentleman while you make me a romantic overture-- somehow you always seemed to be better at them than me.” He was smiling, thinking of that day, was it almost a year ago, that she had been leaving for London in that tiny plane with her father, that day she told him to come after her, that day when he kissed her, holding her, knowing he just maybe finally won out.

Phryne took both of his hands in hers and looked up at him, eyes sparkling, chin high and asked in her most seductive tone, “Jack Robinson, will you marry me?”

He sat there, holding her hands, looking at her-- this amazing woman who would never cease to surprise and amaze him. Tonight he came over with the goal of simply getting his feelings out on the table, he had never thought, couldn’t have dreamt, that she would turn the tables on him so thoroughly and unexpectedly… and perfectly.. 

“Yes Phryne, I believe I will. Anytime, any place, just tell me when to show up.” His fingers were cradling her face, tracing the lines of her cheeks and lips… how could she really be his? 

“Really, Jack?”

He let out a short laugh, how could she be the one in disbelief of what was happening here? “Of course I will. I don’t think I’ve wanted anything else so much in my life! Well, apart from my lips on that patch of skin on your hip with the freckle…” This time Phryne had no objection with him laying her down on the chaise as he performed a particularly thorough and extensive tour of her body with his lips and tongue. If this was giving in, she may have to try it more often.


	11. Sheer Terror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The basis of optimism is sheer terror.” Oscar Wilde

Jack stood on the outside of one of his least favorite doors in the world. It probably ranked as the door to the Chief Commissioner’s office, his dentist’s, and this one. “Dammit Robinson, don’t be a coward, you have faced down Germans in the fields across Europe, you have brought down smuggling rings and rapists and anarchist terrorists, you can handle this!” He raised his arm to ring the bell and before his finger had even left the button, it had been opened by a positively decrepit old man, he was Methuselah’s older brother, without a doubt.

“May I help you sir?” The butler wheezed, sounding as though he would actually choke to death on the words before they were done coming out of his mouth.

“Why, yes, I’m here to speak with Mrs….”

“It’s quite all right Beasley, he is expected. Now if you would be so good as to bring some tea to the drawing room?”

“Very good madame.” He bowed, Jack was almost certain that he heard the man’s joints actually creaking at the gesture. Jack stepped inside and through to what he assumed was the drawing room, this house had so many damn rooms in it it could practically be called a village. He had never answered this house before with anything but fear or trepidation, but at least when entered the room, he was greeted by a certain smiling young lady for whom he had great affection. There on the couch was Jane Ross, looking up from the book she had previously been absorbed in to call hello to him, just as Mrs. Prudence Stanley moved to her favorite seat, eying the Inspector up and down.

“I thought it very strange, Inspector, that you should call so early this morning and request to see me. I assume that all is well? My niece, she is well? I was wondering why it was that you were asking to see me without her, since as you can imagine, it was an unusual request. And precisely when Jane should be with me for the school holidays… it is all very peculiar and I don’t mind saying so.”

“Yes, Mrs. Stanley, I understand that it was a bit, unorthodox, but I’m afraid that I find myself…” he was interrupted by the sound of Mr. Beasly walking in the tray of tea. Jack could hear the sound of the china clattering against the silver tray as he walked, no doubt due to the old man’s shaking hands and arms. Jack would have happily met the man and carried the tray over to where they sat, the sound of the clattering dishes on the tray was really not helping his nerves at the moment. But, knowing Mrs. Stanley liked things to be done properly, he sat there, trying to stay calm and collected as the Butler somehow successfully managed to set everything down without dropping the entire set.

“That will be all, Beasley. Thank you.” He bowed and began the slow walk out of the room. As Mrs. Stanley moved to pour tea she eyed the Inspector up and down, her lips pursed and eyes narrowed, trying to ascertain the purpose of his visit to her, without Phryne, while Jane should just happen to be there. Given the way the normally composed man was acting fairly distractedly and looked exceptionally nervous and pale, she had an idea as to what he was doing there… but if she was right about it, it was still very unusual. She poured tea and offered up an assortment of muffins, which the Inspector declined-- he was rather afraid that he may vomit at any moment and did not want to eat a thing.

“And so you were saying, Inspector?” She spoke so pointedly and almost with an accusatory tone.

“Ah, yes. Well, I have come here today, knowing your relationship with Miss Fisher, you are very much like another mother to her. And you, Jane, as her ward have become a daughter to her. Given Miss Fisher’s parents’ current absence in the Americas, and her mother’s delicate condition at this time… and taking into account her fondness for the two of you... “ Oh get a hold of yourself Robinson! Is this snivelling idiot the man who not only took down Sydney Fletcher, the Padrino of the Cumora, and more than a few anarchist terrorists, but also somehow found the bravery to declare himself to Miss Fisher AND get her to marry him? This really was going to be a horribly embarrassing memory for him. He took in a deep breath and tried to recollect his thoughts before continuing on.

“I have come to ask the two of you for your blessing to marry Phryne.I know how much she loves and respects the two of you as her family, and although I maybe went a bit out of order here,” they didn’t need to know precisely HOW out of order events had happened, yet, “as I have asked her, and she said yes,” again, a slight discrepancy in who asked whom, but not important at the moment, “and now I am here to ask for your blessing.” There, that was much better.

The room was silent, he could hear the grandfather clock on the other side tick-tocking away, but the ladies didn’t move. Oh God, had this been a terrible mistake? He thought he was doing the gentlemanly thing and that surely Mrs. Stanley would appreciate the gesture he was making, even if she didn’t think he was quite good enough for her niece, she would appreciate his manners. But perhaps he had been mistaken. And was Jane really going to think it was so wonderful? He thought they had always had a special bond, but perhaps the idea of having a pseudo-step father was a bit too much for the girl…

Wait. Was that laughter?

Yes, Jane and Mrs. Stanley had actually just looked at each other and erupted in laughter. In fact, they didn’t quite seem able to control themselves, Jane doubled over and Mrs. Stanley was trying to wipe tears from her eyes. Upset, he had been prepared for, incredulous even, he had been prepared for, but mockery? That hadn’t entered his head.

“My apologies if you believe this to be a joke, however I can assure that I am quite in earnest.” This only set them off on another laughing fit-- every time it started to subside, they would just look over and see the look of complete and total bewilderment in Jack’s face and again, they would completely lose their composure-- he looked such a forlorn and defeated creature.

“No, Inspector, we are not laughing at you, per se, we were merely… It’s only that…” Mrs. Stanley was having quite a bit of trouble keeping herself in check so she could explain the humor in the situation. Jane somehow was able to get it together first and continued on behalf of her Aunt.

“It’s only that I told her just this morning that you and Phryne seemed… distracted lately, a bit off. I was worried about the two of you and we were actually a bit worried that this visit would be you taking your leave of us all, had you and Phryne split up.”

“Jane, please do not use slang in my house.”

“In case you two had parted. But then she had the strange thought that maybe it was because you wanted to ask her permission this, and I said that not even Jack Robinson would be so brave as to ask someone for permission to marry Phryne and bet her that you would know better! So now Aunt P must let me choose her costume for that Charity fancy dress ball next month because you would know that if she ever found out you asked someone for permission to marry her, she would show you the door before you said anything else!”

“Nothing too outrageous, please Jane, I am a respectable woman after all.”

Jack had to sit back, trying to take it all in, this was not at all what he had expected when he came here. He had assumed he would be grilled rigorously on his financial situation, his political and religious leanings, his career history and ambition… to see that not only had these two been concerned that he and Phryne were over, and were sad about it, made him swell up a bit with happiness. He had never seen Mrs.Stanley like this, she was like a teen girl with Jane right now, happy and carefree and actually downright silly. Maybe he had become enough a part of the family that he was being let in a little to see their softer, cozier side, leading him to smile at the company in the room.

“I’m very relieved to tell you that we are not, in fact, breaking things off. I have to admit that I’m not entirely sure how I got so lucky to talk her into marrying me, but I seem to have done so and I’m anxious to make it happen quickly, before she can come to her senses and change her mind. But I am sincere in my purpose here, it would mean quite a bit to me, and I think to her as well, that we have your blessings-- not your permission, but your blessing. Jane?” He turned to the young woman, knowing she would be the easier of the two.

“It depends, on a few things actually.” Uh-oh, that tone sounded so like Phryne’s “I’m about to toy with you” voice, this couldn’t be good.

“And they are?”

“First of all, you promise me that you love her more than anything. Because she may have a few faults, I know that, but she is the most wonderful woman who has ever lived and if anyone ever did anything to hurt her, they would be in terrible trouble with me.” She was looking him in the eyes, her gaze was remarkably steady and unflinching-- perhaps he should bring her in on interrogations with particularly difficult suspects, she was not joking around. He met her gaze, wanting her to understand how serious he was about this.

“I love her more than absolutely anything in my world and if I ever do hurt her, I don’t deserve anything but your worst.” She smiled at that, but with that mischievous look in his eyes that reminded him that she had grown up in some particularly rough circumstances, if anyone could make him pay, it was her. “What else?”

“Well…” And this time she hedged, looking away for a minute, seeming a bit nervous. “What about me? I understand that you and Phryne may want to be alone, once you’re married. I’m not normally home all that often, ever since I came back from the Continent I spend most of my weeknights at school and then alternate between here and Phryne’s on holidays and breaks. And I would understand if you wanted me to move here more permanently, you and Phryne may want the time without me, I can be a bit loud and messy and I’m not used to…”

Jack interrupted her, he could see the look of anxiety in her face this time, poor girl, after everything she had been through… “Jane. I’ll admit that Phryne and I have not discussed this topic yet, but I feel very confident that she would agree with me on this-- YOU are part of the package. Whatever sort of family Phryne and I end up cobbling together, you are undoubtedly and unquestionably a major member of it. But, you know, I’ve never had anything like a ward or a daughter before. So, I may be a bit of a mess at it. Are you willing to be patient with me while I try and figure out what I’m doing?”

Soberly she looked at him, then broke out in a smile, “Well, since I’ve never really had a step-dad before, I think we’ll both have some work to do to figure it out, won’t we?” He smiled at her, pulling her into a big hug-- he hadn’t actually thought much about what his relationship with Jane would be like in this new situation, but he was a bit overwhelmed at how willing she was to adopt him! For a man who had lived the life of a single bachelor for so long, the size of his family seemed to be exploding at a rather madcap rate, and it was awfully nice. Well, that was one down on his list. He turned, ever so slightly to Mrs. Stanley.

“Jane, I don’t suppose you would be so good as to retrieve something from my room, would you? I’d like to have a moment to speak with the Inspector alone, if I may.” Jane looked a bit crushed, she was almost 16, she hated being kept out of interesting conversations. But, she understood the tone in Aunt P’s voice and agreed easily enough. “Thank you dear, if you could please bring me the dark blue velvet pouch in the top drawer of my night stand? That would be most helpful.”

Once they were alone, she poured herself another cup of tea before beginning to speak.

“Did Phryne ever tell you much about how her father and mother met?”

“I believe it was at The Grand, was it not? During the Twilight Waltz? But I’m afraid that’s the extent of my knowledge. Sadly, I don’t think that Mr. Fisher and I got along all that well when I met him on previous occasions.”

“Well, in my opinion, that may just be a point in your favor, Inspector.”

“Jack, please, Mrs. Stanley.”

“Very well, Jack. You may call me Prudence.” Well, he wasn’t sure that was true, it seemed difficult to think of ever thinking of this battleship of a woman as anything but Mrs. Stanley, much less calling her that, but he nodded politely.

“My sister, Margaret, was a lovely girl-- one of the prettiest in Melbourne; Phryne looks almost exactly like her mother at that age, you know. Only Margaret always had the most beautiful, raven black curls, all the way to her waist.” She was telling the story, that smile on the face of people as they wax particularly nostalgic. “She could have married anyone, my parents even spoke a bit of sending her to England, to stay with our relatives there, see if she couldn’t nab a Duke or Earl. In America she could have married a Rockefeller, I am certain of it. But from the first time she waltzed with Henry Fisher… she was lost. By the time we found out that he had no connections and less money, she was a goner and would have no one else, even if they had to elope. Eventually my parents agreed, Phryne’s stubbornness is most certainly an inherited trait, by the way.” She paused, not entirely sure why she was sharing this story, maybe it wasn’t her place to tell some of this, maybe it was for the girl to tell him. But, every thing in life needed context, including this gesture.

“Henry was never much of a husband, and an even worse father. His constant schemes to strike it rich blew through her small dowry and the family sunk lower and lower in poverty with each one. I begged her to take the girls and leave that horrible brute, no child should be raised in a place like those slums, with that man. To this day, I’m ashamed I ever let a sister of mine live there, but every time I gave her any assistance, he would gamble it or drink it away, it was terrible. I would try to have the girls over as often as possible, tried to take them on holiday with us, but Henry did not like my influence on them, or on my sister. As you have probably gathered, his general character has not changed since those days.” She was getting just a bit choked up, she had so much shame over the way she had handled that situation, even for a while cutting out her sister and her girls, hoping if the family hit the absolute dregs, then maybe her sister would wise up and get out.

“So, when my mother died, I promised that I would deliver Margaret’s portion of mementos and keepsakes from her estate. But, I just… I couldn’t stand to see that man pawn anymore heirlooms, so I lied. I lied and said I had sent them and wailed that they had been lost in transit by an incompetent shipping company.”

Jack was awfully confused about this story. Well, he would be confused if he hadn’t been distracted with thoughts of how Phryne must have suffered growing up. He knew the broad strokes of the picture from conversations with her. He had also grown up not far from Collingwood, only North Richmond, but it may as well have been different worlds. his mother and her church ladies had spent so much time ministering to the sick and the old in the Slums down by that big church… she wouldn’t even let Jack join her as a young boy of 10 or 11 when she went to the worst parts. Thinking about this and his anger with Henry Fisher, a man it was going to be very difficult to think of as a Father-in-Law, he didn’t notice Jane steal back into the room with a small parcel. She handed it to Aunt P and left again.

“I was only just looking through things again, and I found this. I have been trying to determine what to do with it and I think you have given me the perfect idea. Inspector-- Jack. You may have noticed I have a soft spot for that dear girl, I see everything she has been through-- that neighborhood of her childhood, her father, the War, Janey” She was tearing up, trying to hold it together as she finished her story and her plan “…and she has always been a bright spot through all of it, a great comfort and a credit to an old Aunt. But I never pushed her to marry, as my sister sometimes did, because I had seen what could happen when a young girl marries the wrong man. And it is obvious to me that you are not the wrong man. In fact, it’s possible you may just be the ONLY man that could ever do the job well enough for my satisfaction, perhaps.” She looked up, her eyes smiling a bit. He realized that his heart had been pounding a bit, his breath held, waiting on the final pronouncement.  
“And so, not only do you have my blessing, but, I would like for you to have this- to give her.” She handed him the pouch in her hand, a deep blue velvet with silver drawstrings at the top. It was small and light and Jack was curious as he opened it. He pulled out the contents, holding a single ring, one large sapphire, cut like a teardrop, surrounded by pearls and tiny bits of diamond. He was speechless, he didn’t think he had held anything so valuable in his entire life. He looked up at her, trying to make sure his mouth was not hanging open.

“Now, I know it may not be quite her tastes, or you may have already bought a ring,” He had not, he had actually been rather dreading that issue, trying to figure out what kind of ring he could ever possibly afford that would be good enough for the woman that had absolutely every financial resource he could only dream of. “But, it belonged to my mother, her grandmother, Elinor. It should have gone to Margaret upon her death, and ultimately to Phryne, but I just couldn’t bring myself to let that man get his hands on it. My parents lived very happy, prosperous lives, they were together for almost 40 years, and I believe she would be very happy to see it given to Phryne in exactly this way.” Jack looked up and saw tears in her eyes, but a large smile on her face.

“Mrs. Stanley, I can’t… I mean to say, I’m overwhelmed... “

“Jack, I really am very glad that she met you. And I hope that you will take care of her. She means far more to me than that ring, or anything else in my possession.”

“I promise you, Prudence, I will love and care for her as no one else ever could.”

“You know, dear boy, I believe you. I truly do.”


	12. Loving and Being Loved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The consciousness of loving and being loved brings a warmth and richness to life that nothing else can bring.” Oscar Wilde

The sun streamed in the early Spring morning, shining through the window on two very sleepy, happy and mostly naked lovers. Dot had left a tray of coffee outside the door already (that was the new arrangement so that she wouldn’t accidentally walk in on them in varying places, positions or states of undress-- after the last incident, it had been days before she was able to look the Inspector in the eye… or add honey to anything she ate). As Jack, in a robe, retrieved the tray of coffee, Phryne stood and moved to put on her knickers from the night before, and was completely shocked when the elastic around the waistband snapped!

“What in the?” It was like something in a Punch and Judy sketch, the waist popping off with a loud sound and the knickers falling into a pool of silk on the floor around her feet. She looked at Jack, who was actually trying not to laugh, but something about the combination look of surprise and annoyance were too comical for him and he let out a quick chuckle. Still in a complete state of undress, she walked over to her full length mirror to take a look at her body. Jack had been noticing for a few weeks that there seemed to be a very slight, but very distinct bump in her belly, but hadn’t mentioned it, not knowing how the observation would be greeted by the (as of late) very emotionally fragile Phryne. She looked in the mirror, looking straight to the front, and then turned to the side, looking in profile and running her hand across her barely there belly. 

Worried what she may be thinking right now, he moved towards her, leaving his precious cup of very bold, perfectly percolated coffee. He moved behind her, snaking his arms around her from behind, nuzzling his nose into her neck, running his hand along her abdomen. 

“Have I mentioned lately how stunning you are?” Seeing the look of disbelief in her eyes, he hurried on, “No, Phryne, please. Can’t you try and understand? You know that glow women are always referring to? You have always been luminous as the moon, and yet, now… you are like a moon with a warm, gold rosiness overlaid. I can’t get over the sexy, stunning qualities you have right now-- and I”m a person who has found you more attractive and stunning than most, which I think we can all admit, is generally quite a lot.”

She sighed, squeezing his hands as he held hers, pulling him closer into her. She relaxed into his embrace, breathing in his scent. He turned her around so that he was cradling her, catching a glimpse of them in profile in the mirror. The reflection showed a tall, serious man of almost 40, his hair unkempt as of yet, holding a stunning, luminous woman who looked concerned, but also soft… there was a slightly distracted smile on her lips… maybe she wasn’t dreading motherhood quite as much as he feared. 

“I’m afraid that we’re going to have to start to tell people.” She was almost absent-mindedly rubbing her still very small belly. Jack breathed in. He knew that her biggest fear, at this point, was breaking the news to Dot. And he completely understood why-- while Dot and Hugh had been married for 9-10 months longer than he and Phryne had been any kind of a couple, those two had been TRYING to have a child together; at the same time, Jack and Phryne had been actively taking many measures to NOT procreate, and they had failed and the unmarried couple had a child on the way. A child, that as Phryne’s employee and Jack’s subordinate, would alter the world of the Collins’; who would tailor the clothes of Phryne, help her with the baby in early months, cover for Jack when he had to be out to be with Phryne in the early days? There was no way for this to NOT spill over on the two people who they each had very strong affection for. 

“I just… I don’t know how.” She turned into his embrace, wanting to see his face, look into his eyes. “For the first time in my life, marriage does not feel like a particularly scary or ridiculous concept. I plan to spend my life with you, so why not put it in writing? I’m even beginning to come to terms, veeeery slowly, with the idea of us having a child. Honestly? I can even live with the conclusions people are about to draw when I start showing, too obviously, within weeks or even days of being married. But, the idea of hurting Dot? That seems unforgivable to me. I honestly do not know how I’m supposed to do it. How do I ask the girl who has cried in my arms three times about not being pregnant to please let out my clothes and alter my daily routine to allow for this thing I never wanted and she would give her life to experience?”

Phryne was in tears, it was hard to not be affected by the situation. And it wasn’t as though he didn’t sympathize with the Collins, obviously he did-- he had been in that situation before, and it was absolutely awful-- the feeling of inadequacy and failure. But he wasn’t there now, and he was so incredibly happy and proud that it was almost impossible for him to consider anyone else’s feelings. What could he ever say that would actually help in this situation?

“You know, Phryne, I was really hoping that maybe you and I could go out tonight? I’ve been so busy with this Chinatown case and you’re just getting over your morning sickness… would you like to get out for a night, maybe a little romance?”

She smiled, looking away from the mirror, she felt both disgusted by her body while in awe of what was happening inside of her right now… growing another human being often felt like a daunting and far-too-sacred task for someone like her. “You know, Jack, I think that may be exactly what I need right now. Would you like me to meet you somewhere?

“Just here, I will come to collect you around 8. Dress relatively comfortably. Now, I have to go, but do you think you will be alright until then?”

“Of course, Inspector. I have a visit with Mac and then dinner with you tonight. I know I need to tell Dot, but I am probably going to wimp out for a few more days.” She smiled wryly at him. “I find that my usual bravado is failing me at the moment.”

“Well, try not to think about it today or tonight, we’ll figure something out-- together, I promise you.” He kissed her tenderly on the lips and then her forehead, he had the beginning of a plan for the evening forming in his mind, he had a lot to do to get ready for it. But she was just standing there, entirely naked, they had been speaking of the child she was carrying, she was just so beautiful and soft, he moved back into kiss her again, and this time it was NOT tender. She eagerly leaned into meet him, 

“Inspector, don’t you have a full day ahead of you at work? Your Chinatown case?” 

“Suddenly I find that I wouldn’t mind being ten minutes late to the office…” He moved her back towards the bed, pushing her back so that her knees bent at the edge. She moved to scoot back but he stopped her with his hands. “Actually, I think this just may be a nice position for me to work with.” She propped herself up on her elbows and raised her eyebrows at him. He got down on his knees in front of the bed and begin to kiss his way up her thigh, causing her to hitch her breath in excitement as he got nearer… nearer… and then he moved to kiss his way down the other thigh, making her groan from disappointment. 

“Jaaack. That hardly seems fair…” 

“Perhaps it’s good for you to learn a small lesson in patience.” He continued to kiss his way back up and onto her belly, spending a little time exploring her navel with his tongue. 

“Now is the time for a lesson? I thought we only had ten minutes?” 

“Well, I only suggested a small lesson.” And with that he plundered her warmth with his mouth, his tongue, his lips. She sank back into the bed with a moan of pleasure and delight-- the man had so many excellent qualities, but she generally found his skills with his mouth to top the list of her favorites. He had an ability to apply exactly the right amount of suction and pressure, to savor her clit as though it was a true delicacy, relishing every time she moved her hips, moaned in delight or whispered his name in that throaty voice of hers. As he felt her begin to reach her climax he smiled, whispering in her to, “Mmmm, come Phryne… I want to taste you while you come.” That pushed her over the edge, she felt herself bucking into his mouth as the waves of pleasure began to cascade over her, her eyes rolling back in her head as she collapsed back into the bed, trying to catch her breath. He kissed his way up her body and she pulled him to her, needing to feel his mouth, wanting him inside of her, wanting to give him the pleasure he had just given her-- she was nothing if not a very generous lover. 

He kissed her back, powerfully, forcefully. She hooked a leg around him and rolled him onto his back, straddling him, moving her lips to his neck, kissing and nibbling the length of his throat, it was a particularly sensitive spot for him. As she moved her way up to his ear, sucking on his lobe, causing this deep guttural groan from him. That was it for her, that deep, primal noise was all she needed to move down and slide herself over him, bringing him inside of her in a deliciously slow move. She rocked herself back and forth on him slowly for a minute, just enjoying the feel of him against her, inside of him, but he moaned again and she was done, she wanted him to come and come rather hard. She began to speed up and was riding him rather ferociously, toying with his nipples in between her fingers, moaning his name. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck me Phryne. Oh god, oh god, oh….” and she felt him seize up under her as she finally, mercifully, began to slow to a halt, just holding him in her for a moment, until he could even begin to control his breathing again. She rolled off and to the side, snuggling up next to him, pulling his arm around her shoulders, he moved to brush his lips against her forehead, wondering how on earth he ever could have gotten this lucky-- a question he found himself asking at least 1,000 times every day. 

“Promise me that you will always want me like that? Even when I’ve ballooned up to the size of an elephant and have stretch marks everywhere and am even crazier with these mood swings than now?” She looked at him, that uncharacteristic vulnerability and fear in her eyes-- this woman was genuinely concerned that he would not love her, that she would lose his love and affection? He looked at her with as much tenderness and love as he had for her.

“In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes For they in thee a thousand errors note; But ‘tis my heart that loves what they despise, Who, in despite of view, is pleased to dote; Nor are mine ears with thy tongue’s tune delighted, Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone, Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited To any sensual feast with thee alone: But my five wits nor my five senses can Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee, Who leaves unswayed the likeness of a man, Thy proud heart’s slave and vassal wretch to be. Only my plague thus far I count my gain, That she that makes me sin awards me pain.” 

And with that, he kissed her again, holding her in his arms, “I love you, Phryne. And while I have to admit I rather enjoy your beauty, your body, your soft, smooth skin… but they’re only the packaging that surrounds the things about you I love the most-- your mind, your heart, your thirst for life, your passion for everything… how could I ever tire of loving someone like you? That would be like saying I no longer think the stars lovely or The Bard seems trite-- it simply could never happen. He kissed her again, knowing that he needed to get to work, but her vulnerability and openness, along with her still very naked body right there, next to him, made him feel a particular stirring of desire. He deepened the kiss and she responded eagerly, making a happy, quiet sigh into his mouth that clinched his fate-- he was going to be very late in deed.


	13. When You Really Want Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When you really want love you will find it waiting for you.” Oscar Wilde
> 
> Jack manages to improve on his romantic overtures... to the millionth degree. 
> 
> If I have not said it yet, thank you so much for reading and commenting, this has been an amazing experience, I don't want this story to ever come to an end!

Ch 13  
“When you really want love you will find it waiting for you.” 

For maybe the first time in her life, outside of a few experiments in the bedroom, Phryne Fisher was blindfolded. She was currently wearing a scarlet red sash of silk about her face as Jack gently and carefully led her to their destination. He had blindfolded her as they got in the car that night, but she had tried to follow along where they were by counting turns and speed of the vehicle, she imagined they were somewhere in the vicinity of the Botanical Gardens, but had no idea what was with all the mystery and conspiracy. She had caught Jack in huddled conversation with Dot and Mr. B that morning, before leaving (very late, she might add) for work. They had been talking very animatedly and Dot had been very excited and happy about something. 

“Watch your step Phryne. There is a bit of a dip here as we head down a hill.” He had one arm firmly about her waist and one about her arm, guiding her along the grassy knoll they were descending. After another moment she felt him come up short, seeming surprised, he drew in a sharp breath and began shaking his head-- was that good or bad? She didn’t get a chance to ask him before he turned her towards him, she could hear the smile in his voice. “You, Miss Fisher, have the most incomparable staff that could ever…” he just trailed off, a bit overwhelmed. This wasn’t just the work of an excellent and well-trained staff; this was the work of friends and loved ones who were very excited to help with this moment. He pulled her into him, kissing her very soundly and thoroughly right before going to remove the silk sash about her eyes (she should definitely re-visit this particular blindfold situation next time they were at home and ensconced in her boudoir). Releasing her, her eyes free, she blinked a few times as she looked at the scene in front of her. 

They WERE in the Royal Botanic Gardens, she smirked for just a moment to herself over that point. And then, she was carried away at the scene in front of her, trying to process everything she was seeing. They were by the Royal Observatory, almost exactly the spot where Jack had made his first attempt at a “romantic overture”, almost a year ago. But the spot had been transformed, entirely. There were deep, thick oriental rugs covering part of the field, with a small dining table and deep, comfortable arm chairs surrounding it (were they the ones from Jack’s study at home?) There was a phonograph player on a stand with a few records next to it-- she could guess which ones, given the overall theme of this evening, it seemed to be about revisiting their past, the most romantic and happiest moments of it. 

There were candles absolutely everywhere, giving a nice, warm and soft glow without competing against the beautiful stars above. There was a telescope, a few worn leather books that Phryne was guessing included some favorite stories by the Bard-- if she had to be specific, she would assume they were Antony & Cleopatra, Much Ado About Nothing and probably a collection of sonnets. There were large thick cushions and pillows that Phryne recognized from various rooms about her house and lovely soft throw blankets, in case they felt like reclining on the ground, rather than the table. There were TWO baskets of food from Mr. B and a gorgeous silver high hat filled with French champagne. There were flowers everywhere, but not red roses-- Phryne did not care for red roses, she thought they were cliche and overplayed. Instead, there were Noisettes in beautiful creamy peach and blush tones, tree peonies, dreamcatchers, rhododendrons, Chinese Forget-me-nots and the most beautifully fragrant gardenias and jasmine, mixed about in vases, in teacups, in pitchers and jars… she was almost certain that every flower in Jack’s garden at home had been snipped and lovingly carried here, creating a magical, exotic fairy land for her. 

She looked about her in absolute wonder and amazement, tears coming to her eyes-- tears of sheer joy and a sense of understanding that she was, at this moment, the most beloved woman in the world-- not just by Jack, who was the truest partner in the world, but by everyone who had come to help make this moment happen. She could see the clear touches of Dot in the way it had all been arranged-- cozy, tasteful, but chic and elegant and efficient as well. She saw the unmistakable sophistication and elegance of Mr. B’s menu, china selection, the wines and champagne peeking out of the ice bucket… And of course Bert and Cec would have been enlisted to cart all of this all across the city of Melbourne to here. And there, on the small table that had the phonograph, there was a collection of photographs. She moved over there and felt the tears re-surfacing and her breath caught just a bit. There were framed pictures of her and her sister Janey, of her parents at their wedding-- and a picture of Jack as a young boy, maybe ten (had he always had that half-smile, half-smirk?) and he was with an older sister, who she knew to be Jennifer, a younger brother, a large golden labrador dog and, she assumed, his parents. There was another picture of the same couple, dressed for their wedding in the high-necked dress and formal tuxedo of the Victorian era. 

She had never seen these pictures-- she felt incredibly guilty that they did not spend more time at his home, closer into the City itself, near the station. She felt even worse that she had never met his family-- any of them. She knew Jack was a boy from North Richmond and his parents had moved to Sydney when his sister married a man from Sydney (James? George? Geoffrey? She was horrible for not remembering) and had children there. Wanting to be close to their only grandchildren, they had relocated themselves-- something she felt certain was a point of sadness for him, a nice bit of salt in the wound that he had never been so lucky-- had never expected to be as lucky. 

His younger brother he really did not like to speak about, it was something they shared, the pain of losing a sibling. For Jack it had been in the War-- his brother Oliver had been a casualty at Gallipoli while Jack had been stationed in France. She didn’t like to ask too much, understanding how sensitive the subject was, respecting his quiet on the topic-- he would talk to her about it when he was ready. As she moved down the line of photographs she noticed that there was a blank frame. It was absolutely stunning, silver and white gold braided together along the edge, and white mother of pearl inlay throughout. In it was an absolutely ridiculous, childish stick figure drawing that she had to assume was Jack’s hand. It showed a man with an Inspector’s badge and a rakishly angled fedora, a woman with a dark black bob and cherry red lips, a young lady with freckles and reddish hair, reading a book, a tiny baby in a bundle and a single curl on its forehead, and a large dog of undetermined breed or origin. It was labeled “The Fisher-Robinson Family 1930”. 

At this point, the tears were falling freely, she couldn’t help it, didn’t even necessarily want to help it. She felt him move behind her, to hold her to him, her head fitting just perfectly under his chin. He could tell there was a little more emotion in his voice than he was necessarily used to, but just leaned in and whispered into her ear, “I just wanted this to be perfect, Phryne.” She turned to face him, asking, 

“Wanted what to be perfect, Jack?” As she did so, she saw him getting to one knee in front of her, pulling something from his jacket pocket- a small blue velvet bag with a silver drawstring that she had never seen before. “Jack, what on earth are you…”

“Miss Fisher, would you please attempt to keep from speaking for the moment so I can finish?” The twinkle in his eyes injected exactly the amount of levity needed right then for both of them to avoid falling into a heap of sobs and emotion. Evoking that long-ago day on the train to Ballarat, she pressed her lips firmly together and pointed at them, showing her acquiescence. He drew in a breath, trying to gather his thoughts-- he’d been thinking of this moment for so long, and she looked so incredibly beautiful in the moonlight that he was having trouble breathing, much less remembering anything he had planned to say. 

“Phryne, from the day that you came crashing into my life, I finally understood that while I had been alive for the who knows how long, I had not actually been living. You changed all of that for me, you gave me courage to face the end of a marriage, you gave me fun when I would otherwise have moped, you challenged me to be a better man, a better Inspector and I believe a better friend to many people. And now… now, you have given me things I could never have imagined possible-- you have given me you. You are giving me an entire family and I-- most days I honestly believe that I’m in a dream of some kind-- and if that is the case, I hope its one from which I never wake up. I could not imagine going back to a life before I met you, before I loved you, before I heard you say that you love me too.”

He moved to open the pouch next to him, the small blue bag. “I’m a bit more traditional than you, I don’t think you would be surprised to hear me say. So, after your rather impromptu and perfect proposal to me, I needed to step back a moment and fulfill, to a degree, a very long tradition-- and seeing as how your relationship with your father is… complicated, I opted to go to those I thought better represented your family. And because for you, I would face anything, I went to see your Aunt and Jane.” Her eyes grew big with surprise, he had done what? Wait, had he done… she seriously hoped that he had been smarter than to go to them and ask ANYONE for… Seeing the look in her face he tried not to laugh, but a small chuckle escaped. 

“I did not see them to ask them for your hand. In fact, I informed them THAT had been assured to me by the only party who mattered-- you. However, I did request their blessing in our marriage. Jane grilled me just a bit on my feelings for you,” Phryne smiled, she could absolutely imagine how THAT conversation had happened-- after all, neither she nor Jane was a particularly NICE girl, they could handle themselves, and those they loved. “She also, very timidly wondered our intentions for her. I do hope you don’t mind, but I did speak on behalf of both of us to assure her, emphatically, that she was absolutely a part of this crazy, modern family we are creating. No, do not worry, they know nothing about the… well, the rest of the family we’re creating, at least not from me.” He smiled, as though he would have had the nerve to tell Mrs. Stanley that part while he was there, alone, with no witnesses to his presence. “And your Aunt… she, well, she surprised me quite a bit. Not only did she almost immediately give me her blessing, she gave me this, for you. I gather it is from your grandmother-- it should have been your mother’s upon her death, and then yours. But due to concerns… concerns that you may not… that perhaps it was safer in keeping until she could give it to you. She believed it may just be the perfect fit for this finger, right here…” and with that, he placed it on her left hand, the ring finger, where hopefully it would stay forever. The sparkle of the sapphire was brilliant, the creamy, milky pearls a perfect match to her skin, the diamonds creating just enough contrast.  
"Phryne Fisher, will you please put a man out of his misery and marry me? Let me be a part of your untraditional little family and love you every day for the rest of our lives? Let me be the true and proper father to this child? To Jane? Will you marry me?”

“Jack.” She was teary-eyed, and so happy that she was having trouble speaking. She was looking at him, looking at the ring, it seemed familiar, in a very old nostalgic sort of way, although she honestly couldn’t remember ever seeing it before. “Jack, you are the truest definition of partner I could ever have hoped for in my life. I will absolutely marry you, on one condition.” She paused, trying to figure out how he would react to this condition. He raised one eyebrow, knowing this could go one of many ways. “Can we please make it soon? And small, preferably? I’m not sure how many people I can stomach eating my words about not being the marrying type in front of.” She smiled down at him, she was being honest that she was not looking forward to some of the looks and comments that would naturally come from a few corners of society that she had finally tied herself down, committed herself to one man for life. But beyond that, she honestly just didn’t want to wait anymore, she wanted to be his wife. She had always been a bit headstrong and lived in the spur of the moment, once she made a decision, she was going to do it-- and this was absolutely no exception for her. 

“Name the day, Phryne, and I’ll be there, nothing could keep me away.” And she threw herself on him in a warm embrace and a deep, lingering kiss. This wasn’t scary, this felt entirely right and true. She wasn’t frightened at all, not right now. She felt comforted and content, who knew that giving into your biggest fears could sometimes be the least scary thing you ever did?

____________________________  
After an incredible meal, a bottle of crisp champagne and two records, they were cuddled under the stars, wrapped in soft furry blankets, reflecting on the level of contentment and perfection that was the world, right now, to them. He kissed her and whispered in her ears, “So, Miss Fisher… did I manage to improve on my romantic overture?” In answer she chose not to speak, there were much better ways in which they could use their mouths at the time that would convince him that she had noticed the marked improvement, it had been perfect.


	14. Sympathise with Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Anybody can sympathise with the sufferings of a friend, but it requires a very fine nature to sympathise with a friend's success.” Oscar Wilde

“Dot, could you come here please? I’d like to speak with you.” Phryne was trying to take deep breaths, this was the conversation she had been dreading for the last three months, but she knew that she could wait no longer. After the proposal from Jack the night before, by the time they had returned to Wardlow it had been far too late for anyone to still be there, or awake. But that morning, Dot had come in and was so thrilled to hear confirmation that Miss Fisher had said yes to the Inspector, she had hugged her mistress and teared up with happiness for them. She had admired the stunning ring, hearing the way the Inspector had gone to see Mrs.Stanley and received the family heirloom, it had all been so romantic and perfect. 

Jack had asked Phryne if she wanted him there when she talked to Dot, but she thought it would be much better if they could speak more freely, but perhaps he should offer to take Hugh to lunch today and prepare him, make sure he wasn’t caught completely unaware tonight when he arrived home. 

“Yes, Miss? Did you need something?” She poked her head in the room, looking concerned. 

“Actually, I was hoping you would join me for lunch and we can chat.”

“Of course, Miss.” She took her place at the table and began helping herself to some sandwiches and a cup of tea. “Oh, would you like me to get my notebook? Is this about the wedding, should I be making notes about this?”

“No, Dot, this isn’t about the wedding, not really.” She leaned over the table, wanting to take the hand of this woman who had become as dear a friend to her as anyone else she knew, and was so concerned for her feelings. “I need to talk to you about something, Dot. And I’m not sure… well, I’m honestly not sure how you are going to take it, so I want to say…” she felt her voice catch slightly, making the concern in Dot’s eyes deepen considerably. “Dot, I want you to know that you are one of my dearest and closest friends-- rather more like a sister to me than anything else. I would never hope to cause you any pain, I hope you know that.” Still concerned and not sure what was happening, Dot looked quizzically at her employer. 

“Of course, Miss, I understand that. And I feel very much the same for you.”

“I know you do, Dot. Which is why I want you to be very honest with me about how you feel when I tell you… well, when I tell you that I am pregnant. I am pregnant and the baby is due toward the end of February.” Dot’s face blanched white, her eyes were saucers and she was having a hard time piecing together the words that Phryne had just voiced. She knew what each of those words, separately, meant… but they didn’t seem to make any sense when strung together like that. Miss Fisher was not a woman who wanted children. She certainly had spoken to her extensively about family planning options, if Dot and Hugh were at all open to the idea, options she was sure Miss Fisher had been using carefully and faithfully for some time. 

“Dot? Dot? Are you alright, Dot?”

“I’m fine, Miss. I just. I’m sorry, I suppose I got lost in my thoughts. I suppose that I should probably begin a survey of your wardrobe. Try to account for what can be altered and let out and what may need to be packed away for a while.” She stood up to leave the room. Before she made it to the door she stopped and turned around, feeling a rare moment of bravery. “I’m sorry Miss, I should have… I should have asked. You, and the Inspector, you ARE happy about this? You aren’t just… you aren’t just getting married because you think you have to? Because, Miss, I know that it would be unconventional, even for you, but I hope that you aren’t marrying him only to...”

Phryne could have been knocked down with a feather at that moment. Dot wasn’t angry or hurt that she was pregnant while Dot struggled to be so, but that her concerns were that Phryne was happy, that she was making decisions for the right reason, if Dot may disagree with the results. “Oh, Dot, no! I suppose this has been, a process, for me to figure out my feelings and what I want, but-- well, it was not expected, but it is absolutely what I want to do-- marry Jack AND have this child. I just… I know how you have been struggling with, well, I just didn’t want you to hate me.”

“Hate you, Miss?” Dot sat back down for a moment, looking very puzzled indeed. “Miss, why would I… how could I hate you over this? I know that Hugh and I haven’t, well, we haven’t been blessed yet; but the world keeps on moving outside of us. I am honestly so pleased for you! I know how you feel about the Inspector, and I understand that this is all very, unplanned and probably a bit sudden, but if you are happy, then how could I possibly be mad? I may…” she choked up a little bit here, “I may, possibly be a bit jealous, I’m afraid to say. But I really am so very pleased and happy for you both! All three of you, I suppose!”

Phryne looked at her, such warmth and friendship in her eyes, “You are such a treasure, Dot, how did I ever get so lucky as to find you? Although I certainly don’t condone murder, sometimes I’m so glad to have stumbled upon that horrible business with Lydia Andrews, just so I met you!” She hugged her friend very tight, she was feeling very emotional and as though she had no worries in the world. Now she and Jack could get married, immediately. They would begin to fight and to build their lives together with little Beatrice or Benedick or whoever was in her belly right at this moment. 

________________________

“Collins!”

“Yes sir?” Hugh Collins stuck his head into the office of his superior, Detective Inspector Jack Robinson.

“Collins, I was wondering… did Dot send you with lunch this morning?” 

“No sir, she was going to bring something around lunchtime for me, but I haven’t seen her yet…” Ah, Phryne was smart, had pre-arranged this, he was sure.

“Actually, I was hoping you would let me buy lunch? There is a deli down the street I like, I thought we could get lunch, and talk. As friends. You can help me celebrate my engagement with a piece of blueberry pie.”

“As friends? Umm, yes, sir, of course. I’d be honored, sir.” Collins looked genuinely surprised and very honored. He of course practically considered this man to be like a big brother… well, maybe a young-ish uncle. Jack of course liked Collins quite a bit, thought he had a very bright future, and it would be impossible to not recognize his lovely wife as very important to Phryne, and so if nothing else, he understood how best friends of spouses were to behave to one another. 

As they sat down in the deli, Hugh began looking at the list of sandwiches, a bit overwhelmed by the selection of meats available. He and Jack each ordered tea and their meal and Jack seemed a bit uncertain how to proceed.

“And how is married life, Collins? Still as blissfully happy as you were a year ago?”

That bought him five minutes of being able to frame his thoughts as Hugh waxed on about nuptial bliss. What Jack did for the love of that woman was unbelievable. The fact that he was about to divulge such personal and sensitive information to his Senior Constable before he even told his parents or sister seemed a bit strange, but he understood what this meant to her, and he would absolutely do anything she asked him to-- well, aside from that one thing she had suggested in the bedroom-- that didn’t seem likely to happen anytime before pigs spontaneously sprouted wings and began to fly. 

“Yes, she’s a wonderful woman, I’m glad to see you are so happy.” It was always a safe bet that sentiment would work on a newlywed… good God, he would be that blissfully, intolerable idiot in almost no time at all. That thought did make him smile, and spurred him on to this conversation they needed to have. 

“Well, Collins, there is actually something I very much wanted to discuss with you. A rather, delicate matter, and I know that it may not be entirely appropriate, but I think you can understand that I was asked to do so by my bride-to-be, and that we men in love are rather captive to their commands at times.” Hugh grinned at this, he wasn’t entirely sure where it was going, but he enjoyed the camaraderie, the fraternity of the comment and the tone. “I uh… As you know, Phryne is very fond of your wife, Mrs. Collins; we both are, really, she is absolutely indispensable for a number of reasons. But Phryne, recently was made aware that Mrs. Collins is… well, she’s a bit frustrated, with her lack of… well, that she hasn’t, as yet- and its, of course, early days, she hasn’t as of yet, fallen… that is, she hasn’t, you haven’t… she is not with child. Yet.” He had to forgive Hugh for almost choking on his hot tea-- he hadn’t been able to get that thought in less than 100 false starts, there was no way for men to speak of such things! They could barely speak of it when it HAD occurred, much less when it wasn’t happening, he remembered all too well the veiled comments and hints, the sad, pitying looks from Rosie’s family, his family, their friends-- perhaps that was what had made his bachelor life of relative solitude seem so appealing initially. 

“Collins, please try to understand that I’m NOT trying to poke my head into your business, it is all entirely your affair and I do not, by any means, wish to interfere in the slightest. I only… well, I’m afraid that I wanted to warn you that Mrs. Collins is going to hear some news today that Phryne thought may distress her somewhat. You see, aside from the fact that we are very much in love and very excited to be getting married, the decision was maybe more immediate due to the fact that, Phryne is, well, we are going to be having a child. In February. And Phryne is going to be telling Dot today, she is very concerned that Dot may be upset and wanted you to know, in advance, so you can be there for her, if needed.”

Hugh wasn’t sure what to do with this news. He knew that Dot was frustrated and anxious that she had not yet fallen in the family way, but they had received excellent preliminary test results (he did not want to think of the procedures they had both been through, suffice it to say, they had been thorough). They had also taken to heart some of the doctor’s other suggestions on frequency being rather important, a fact that had put an extra spring in Hugh’s step lately and made him quite alright with it taking a year or two longer to conceive. While he had always planned to have a good-sized family, 4 or 5 kids even, he was perfectly content to be just a married couple for a while, he was sure it was only a matter of time for them. He didn’t realize exactly how upset Dottie had been about this-- he had caught her crying once or twice, but she had pushed it off and said it was more because her monthlies always made her a bit more emotional and weepy. 

For Miss Fisher and Inspector Robinson to be so concerned for his wife’s feelings… well, didn’t it just say everything? He knew that he hadn’t wanted Dot to keep working after they got married, but she had ultimately brought him around on that topic and at this point was just so glad that she had such a wonderful friend, really, almost a sister (he knew how strained her relationship with Nell was-- he liked that she had someone like that in her life). And then suddenly it occurred to Hugh that the man in front of him was about to be a father-- he wasn’t entirely sure that pie was the proper level of celebration for such news!

“Sir! You’re to be a father? Really? That’s wonderful news! When are you expecting, do you know? That is so wonderful, I really feel as though we should be having a pint rather than just sandwiches and pie!” He slapped the man on his back and grinned from ear-to-ear. 

Jack was rather taken aback. While he hadn’t agreed with Phryne that Dot would hate her and never want to be around her again, he did think that they might be more hesitant about their felicitations. And then he realized that he had just told his first person that Phryne was pregnant. He was going to be a Father. That somehow made it sink in and seem so much more real to him than it had up to that point. He was going to have a child. A son or a daughter, a tiny little Robinson running around and calling him Papa, or Da… what did he want to be called? Does a man get to pick those things himself or does it sort of just happen? His mind was spinning but he was laughing and returning the slaps on the back of his Senior Constable, he was suddenly on a whole other plane-- he was going to marry Miss Fisher, he was going to become a pseudo-father to Jane and a full, true father to a son or daughter with the only woman who had ever really captured him, mind, body and soul. 

“You know what Collins? Why don’t you and your wife come for drinks and supper tomorrow night? You’re right, we absolutely should celebrate this in style!” They had been so busy trying to figure out how to handle this situation, they hadn’t done anything to celebrate or enjoy these events, and that was crazy-- he had never been so happy in his life, he was ready to shout it all from the rooftops and in the streets. 

“If you’re sure, Sir…”

“None of this Sir stuff when we’re off the clock, that’s an order. Do you understand… Hugh?” Hugh looked surprised to hear his first name from this man, and then grinned from ear to ear, 

“Of course-- Jack. Well, I suppose we should head back to the precinct, but Dot and I would love to come to dinner tomorrow night!”


	15. Women Are Meant To Be Loved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Women are meant to be loved, not to be understood.” Oscar Wilde
> 
> Ok, this one is because I've had so many friends go through pregnancy and WITHOUT fail, at 4 months, can't help the hormones and needs for sexual gratification at that point-- some of them say that its the first time they ever truly understood the term "craving". So, enjoy the smut, I'm hoping you enjoy.

It had been a particularly grueling day at work, Jack had ended up chasing a suspect through a particularly disgusting kitchen in Chinatown that had been laundering money and killing off potential informants. He smelled like soy sauce, the fresh blood of ducks and a few too many pickled vegetables and fermented bean sauces for his general palate. Phryne’s place was much closer than his and now that they were officially engaged, he had moved quite a few more items of clothing to her place. As he moved upstairs, now that he was free to enter the house without the ceremony of Mr. Butler announcing him, he was tearing off his outermost layers, dying to get into that hot bath with Parisian scented salts and Persian oils, thinking momentarily how quickly one could become accustomed to the luxuries of the rich. In general, he had been too frugal to do more than take a dissatisfying shower every day, maybe a hot soaking tub each Sunday. Now, not only were hot baths a regular event, they often involved the most bewitching and stunning of companions. 

As he reached the bedroom door he slowed his step, even pausing, as he heard a stifled noise from the room, a low groan. He grabbed his gun from his holster, moving with quiet stealth to the crack in the doorway, peering in, looking inside, checking for any sign of trouble or distress. Wait, that was a familiar pitch to him, wasn’t it? He holstered his gun, suddenly suspecting there was something very different happening right now. 

As he peeked in, he saw something that was almost too familiar, while also being completely foreign to him. He saw her there, in black silk pyjamas, her back arched away from the bed, half covered by the crimson silk duvet they slept in each night. He couldn’t see her hands, but he had a feeling where they might be-- he’d never seen a woman do this before (unless it was with him, to enhance the pleasure, he hoped, not to create it). She wasn’t calling for help, she was really just moaning in pleasure. While he didn’t know how long she had been trying, it seemed to him an awfully short time it took to bring herself to climax, as he watched. He saw her contort and buck into her own hands, collapsing on the bed… it wasn’t anything he’d ever seen before, a woman pleasure herself only for the sake of pleasure-- no need to beat a man to that point or enhance what she was feeling, only enjoy the feel of her own body and what she could make it do. It was a bit incredible, really, and so different from his experience as a man. 

Obviously all men had their own needs, they would simply go into a shower or similarly fast and bare circumstances; it was something to be done with as quickly as possible and then pretend as though nothing had ever happened; it was only about release and reprieve. But Phryne had a glass of wine on the bedside table, there were a few lit candles and a copy of Lady Chatterly’s Lover (hadn’t she read that at least a dozen times already?) As he watched her writhing and collapsing into herself, he found himself feeling a tiny bit strange, but mostly he felt himself get hard against his trousers, curious but incredibly turned on. 

He pushed the door open, hearing it creak on its hinges. Phryne, a bit flushed looked up at him. 

“Jack! I didn’t hear you come in, what are you doing home so early?” Was she blushing? Was she actually a bit, embarrassed? 

“Yes, it was a long day, I thought I’d knock off a bit early after we raided that front in Chinatown I told you about.” He was moving towards her, peeling off his shirt and tie-- they really did reek. “Have you had a nice day? I see you’ve been reading…”

“Oh, yes, I was just…” He moved to sit on the bed next to her.

“You know, I was worried, I thought I heard something in here, something that had you in great danger.” He was sitting very close to her now, stripped down to his singlet and trousers only. He was trying his best to look concerned and hide that devilish grin of his, wondering if he could tease her for a change. 

“Did you?” Phryne Fisher was blushing-- well, actually she was far past a rosy cheek and was turning bright red all over, trying incredibly hard to NOT meet his gaze. I suppose you heard…” 

“I did… I’m sorry, I wasn’t quite sure if I should knock or…” he wanted to say “If I should have joined you.” but the truth was, he didn’t want to join, he had actually found himself fascinated with watching her. 

“No… of course not, you shouldn’t have to… I mean, it’s your home too, your room…” She wanted to die. She was no prude, but she had never before been caught before, doing that. Generally, when she had a partner, she would have no need or really any desire to… help herself, so to speak. But lately, she had found that she was in the mood, ALL the time. And when she wanted satisfaction, she needed it, and couldn’t necessarily wait until Jack was home. (It was exactly like her sudden and inexplicable cravings for very strange food combinations, so far the oddest had been wanting a horrible soup made of fish, beets and mustard greens and pickled eggs that everyone else pronounced inedible-- Dot even had begun excusing herself from the room whenever Phyrne insisted on eating it, the smell was so dreadful.) “I mean, I was just, well, I was reading and it…” How could she possibly explain to him what had happened so that he didn’t feel, well, unappreciated? 

“It isn’t something I do often. At least, haven’t felt the need in quite some time… since I came back from London, really. While I was in London, that may have been a different story entirely.” There was that glint of lust in her eye as she tried to convey to him that it wasn’t as though she was particularly unsatisfied. She turned away from him, wanting to bury her head in her pillow. Jack was so torn between wanting to comfort her, show her he wasn’t upset, and wanting to watch this incredibly rare sight of an embarrassed Phryne Fisher. She said something into the pillow,

“What is that? I’m afraid I don’t speak muffled pillow.”

“Its really not fair, you know?”

“What isn’t?”

“It’s not enough that I’m getting fatter and grosser every second from my pregnancy-- almost none of my dresses still fit, my shoes are impossible to keep on, its hot and sweaty everywhere I go… but then, my body has this incredible, maddening, insatiable NEED at the strangest times.”

Jack was a bit puzzled there. He knew she was starting to have some trouble with the changes to her body, but what did that have to do with… “Wait, you mean, you mean that it’s the pregnancy? I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either but Mac swears that it happens all the time! Women hit about this point and suddenly, they… well, it’s just another really desperate craving that is apparently perfectly normal. And it’s so awful because I’ve never been more hideous or disgusting and I’ve never wanted it more! It only goes to prove that God really is a man, a woman would never play this kind of practical joke on her kind!” She threw her head back into the pillow not wanting to continue this conversation anymore-- couldn’t this baby just be here already? She already felt like had lost control of her own body and this was just a sick twisted joke, adding serious insult to injury.

There were days that Jack thought pregnancy was partially the way it was so that the future father could learn some very serious lessons in patience in the face of frustrating, fleeting and enigmatic emotional states. Phryne was crying. Phryne had said recently that in the first month of her pregnancy she believed she had cried more than in the entire 30 years of her life prior. He was at something of a loss, how could she feel so hideous and unloved when he had never found her sexier or more beautiful? He leaned over to hold her. 

“Phryne, Phryne, I’m so sorry, my love, I was only trying to tease you a little.”

“But, Jack, I just…” He kissed her eyelids, then right underneath on her eyes on her cheeks. “Phryne, you know I love you, and I know this must be so difficult for you sometimes. I was merely caught by surprise, nothing else.”

“Really?” She was looking up at him, her eyes wide open with vulnerability and uncertainty. “You aren’t upset? Because you know that I love you, and you are, really, the absolute most amazing lover I’ve ever had.” She leaned into kiss him, on the cheek, and then the lips.  
He enjoyed the kiss for a moment, trying to figure out how to proceed, how to reassure her how much he loved her and found her to be gorgeous. “Actually,” he started, in between kisses, “I believe, once I re-holstered my gun, after determining you were not actually in distress… I was a bit ungentlemanly.”

“Really, Inspector? How so?”

“Well, rather, than move away to give you your privacy, or more quickly announce my presence… well, I have to admit that I stood in the shadow of the hallway, and watched you.”

She looked shocked. “You watched me? While I…?”

“Yes, I did. I have to admit that it was,” he stopped to kiss her, a bit more deeply and lustily, flicking his tongue across her lower lip after nibbling on it for a moment, “it was incredibly arousing. Watching you contort and moan like that-- I mean, I don’t usually get to see from that vantage point. May I ask, what were you thinking about?”

She kissed him more. “Do you really want to know?”

“Please, enlighten me.” She pulled him down to hold her while she settled in to tell him, wondering just exactly what he would do when he heard it all. 

“Well, Jack. I was thinking about that night at The Imperial, when we were in the private curtained room and were walked in on.” Jack remembered that well. To keep their cover, and privacy, Phryne had quickly jumped on his lap, straddling him and nuzzling his face into her breasts. That incident, which followed her particularly seductive and bare fan dance, had certainly led him to more than a few nights of needing to relieve himself in the sanctity of his own shower. 

“Yes? What exactly were you thinking about?”

“I was merely trying to imagine what it would have been like… if I HAD been Lulu. I know that many of the girls had their bodies on the menu… I had no interest in doing so, myself… but, I have to admit, it’s intriguing. The idea of you renting my body for the evening, demanding what you want, taking me wherever, however… I’m sure that you don’t see the sexiness here, but, I have to admit, in a role-playing context.” She turned around to look at him, wondering his thoughts. He looked ather, thinking it was a bit odd that she would want someone to pretend to “rent her body”, with her history, couldn’t that be particularly emotional?

“So, if you WERE Lulu, what exactly would you have done to get me in that booth to begin with? I don’t believe that just buying you a shot of whiskey would have done it-- I believe the Lulu I saw… and I saw quite a bit of her… would have been bought by one small drink.”

“Well, Jack, were the man sufficiently interested by Lulu’s fan dance, I suppose a conversation over champagne in the private area would have been a good start. I believe that is how gentlemen would show themselves to be amenable to purchasing certain services. Then… I remember most of the girls considered the time in the private area to be the “audition” so-to-speak. She sat up on her knees, pushing him onto his back, her eyes sparkling. She was wearing a silky black nightgown that was almost entirely backless, when she turned, he could almost make out the dip of her rear. 

She moved her hands up onto his chest, practically on all fours as she moved up to kiss him. Affecting her Lulu accent, “Inspector, I believe you were intrigued by my performance just now?” She leaned in to kiss him, but only brushed his top lip before whispering in her sultry Spanish voice, “I believe, sir, we could come to some kind of arrangement. That is, if you are satisfied with my performance.” He felt a very familiar tightening in his trousers as her voice sent all the blood rushing from his head to below his waist. 

“I suppose, Miss Lulu, that I would need some kind of, show of effort. I’m not a wealthy man in any sense, if I’m to pay what I’m sure are generous prices for your time, I’d need to know that it was money well spent.”

“Senor, si, por su puesto!” She moved down towards his waistband, her fingers deftly moving to unbuckle his belt and trousers, pulling him out, stroking his length, her eyes getting wide at his hardness, she licked her lips lustily as she imagined all the things she could do with it. “It almost seems wrong to suggest you having to pay me, this is going to be fun.” With that she scooted back and put him in her mouth. She ran her tongue around him, a wide, encircling motion as she moved him up and down his length, cupping his balls with one hand and gently squeezing them. He moaned in pleasure, had she ever done that before? Not to him, he didn’t think. She moved down, noticing his reaction to that, she stroked him while cupping his balls-- before grinning wickedly at him and moving to put the entirety of his warm sack in her mouth.

“My god, Lulu!” He called out, trying to remember to be a bit quiet, there were always people in the house, but that was… that was incredible. As she sucked a bit, moving her tongue along him, before moving back to his more than considerably sized cock. She kept her mouth somewhat slack and round, just running her smooth lips up and down, while focusing her tongue along the length, on all sides. It was warm and wet, and just as he was getting used to it, really enjoying it, she switched it up, applying serious suction as she tried to move all the way from tip to base to tip. She started slow, then sped up and then abruptly stopped. Just as he was groaning in disappointment and frustration, she decided to focus on his tip. she licked, she softly nipped with her lip-covered teeth, she sucked on the tip only and she moaned into him. “Oh, Inspector. Me gusta mucha.” That was all it took to finally push him over the edge. He moaned and bucked himself towards her, she only took him further into her mouth and began sucking harder as she grasped his balls and squeezed. 

“Oh God! Oh my fucking… Fuck me, fuck ME LULU!” He felt the tingle travel from the base of his cock to up and down his entire body, exploding like fireworks as it traveled all through him. He contorted for a moment, gasping for breath, trying to keep his heart from exploding out of his chest. As he came down her throat he wondered how she could swallow with him bumping against the back of her throat. When she finally stopped sucking and moved up to kiss him on the lips. “Senor, I hope that was a suitable audition, I think you can see that I’m very dedicated and believe in your satisfaction.” He growled deep within his chest, kissing her and flipping her onto her back, desperate to do to her something like what she had just done to him. 

_______________________________________

The next morning she woke up sore, but very happy and sated. She turned over to find that Jack had already risen and left for work. Frowning she pulled herself up to a sitting position and saw, on her night table, there was something. She leaned over to inspect what was there. It was 50 pounds and a note, “Thanks for everything, Lulu.” She smiled and moaned as she fell back into the bed, wondering where her nightgown was this morning.


	16. There is no sin except stupidity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There is no sin except stupidity.” Oscar WIlde

“Jonathan Alexander Robinson, if you ever do anything that even approaches that level of stupidity again, I swear by every deity that I have ever heard of that I will come after you and murder you myself.” Jack winced as she stormed into his office, Mac was there, busy stitching up a cut on his forehead, she had just wrapped his sprained right arm and placed it in a sling. He groaned, it was a little loud of a tone for how he was currently feeling. 

“Miss Fisher, if you could please remember that I am the ranking officer on duty…”

“Jack, you know perfectly well that I couldn’t give a damn about that. What in the name of Beelzebub could you possibly have been thinking by going into that warehouse today without proper backup?” He smirked, he knew that wasn’t particularly nice to her, but he couldn’t get past the fact that they had probably had the same argument at least a dozen times before, but this was the first time it was with him on the receiving end.

“Phryne, if you’re going to tax my patient like this, you know I’m going to have to insist that you leave the room until I’m done treating him.”

“Mac, please don’t try to joke with me right now, I think that I have every right to this…”

“Phryne.” That was Jack’s voice. It was stern, but full of love… and exasperation. “I’m sorry, Dr. MacMillan, may I please have a moment with my…with my bride-to-be?” Was that the first time he had said that aloud, in front of others? He couldn’t help but smile at the words and it made Phryne melt just a bit to see his reaction. Mac found it slightly more nauseating than heartwarming and rolled her eyes.

“Oh dear Lord, can you please hurry up and get married so you can fall into a state of perpetual indifference or even semi-loathing?” Mac was always the voice of reason. “I’m done here, I’ll leave you two alone. Phryne- he is absolutely fine. He’s got a few bumps and scrapes, his arm is going to have him at home and underfoot for a week or two, and then two or three riding the desk. But don’t worry, it was his left hand, it shouldn’t interfere with any of your… nocturnal activities, so you can take a deep breath and remember you have put all of us through much more.” She finished packing up her satchel as she she spoke.

“As for you, Inspector, she isn’t wrong. What you did was beyond foolish… but you did save that poor girl’s life, so I’m personally willing to forgive you. If I were you, I think I would just hurry up and marry this woman as soon as possible and perhaps your doctor would be able to write you a note to get you an extra week of medical leave for a honeymoon.” She winked at the professor and stopped to kiss Phryne on the cheek before exiting the room, smirking. She had to admit, it was always fun to drop a bomb in a room and then leave before they had to deal with what she had just said.

Phryne was standing in front of the door as Mac walked past her and left the room. Jack was sitting on the edge of his desk, his left arm in a sling, his forehead bandaged after the eight stitches he had just received. He had the devil of a headache and wasn’t entirely feeling up to Phryne’s anger, but was trying to put himself in her shoes.

“Did you really save that girl’s life?” He nodded, quietly, never comfortable with accepting accolades for just doing his job, or for that matter, what a human being should do for another. She began to tear up as she looked at him; Jack wanted to mutter a few obscenities under his breath. He didn’t know if it was Collins or Mac who had called her and told her what happened… and he knew that was something he was going to have to get used to, once they were married of course she’d be contacted if he sustained any injury at work; but if it was Collins today, he’d have that kid working midnight shifts for weeks. He could have given Jack the chance to explain to her what happened, not just terrified her.

“Why didn’t you wait for backup?” She was pleading, begging him to have an explanation that would allow her to keep terrible nightmares of him at bay. He had to fight to keep from pointing out the irony of HER asking that question.

“Phryne, they were slave traders. They had a knife to her throat. I shot him and was able to clip his arm, he dropped the knife, but as I was checking on the girl I didn’t kick the knife away quickly enough and he got one wild slash in, that’s all. I didn’t feel like I had an option, I couldn’t stand there and watch her get her throat slit while I was there and could do something to stop it." Her tears spilled over, she began to sob, her shoulders hunched, she sounded as though breathing was a difficulty. He was up from his desk and to her in two steps, his good arm around her, holding her as tightly as was possible. “Shhh, shh, my darling, there is no need to cry. I am just fine.”

“It’s not that, Jack, I can see you’re fine- at least going to be fine. But what if I had lost you? What if this child was never able to know you? Know the man you are, know their father?” She was clinging to him, not liking how this made her feel so needy or desperate- SHE had never needed someone else in her life, but this wasn’t about her-- this was about their child. How could she ever ask a child to grow up in a world that did not have Jack Robinson in it? “How am I supposed to do this, ANY of this, alone? Jack, I just don’t think I can, I really don’t think I can do this without you!” She was on the verge of a total panic attack while he held her. He pulled away from her, touching his forehead to hers, cupping her head in his good hand, looking intently into her eyes.

“Phryne, what on earth are you talking about? I am absolutely fine. I am not going anywhere! Certainly not now, not when you have given me so much more to live for than I could have ever dreamt in my life. But that isn’t even the point! Even if, God forbid, something did happen to me at any point, you are the strongest woman I have ever met. You are incredible and can do absolutely anything that you try to do, you are unstoppable-- a force of nature. You can do anything. I fear most days I’m just going to be spending my time trying to keep up with you, and Lord help us all if our child is a miniature version of you.”

“But I don’t want to do any of this alone! Don’t you see Jack? Why do you think I need to marry you, to make you my husband? Because there is no way I can be happy living without you and I absolutely refuse to even entertain the idea of a life that doesn’t have you, right there, beside me.”

He was stroking her cheek, pushing her hair back behind her ear. “Phryne you do not have to worry about that! I’m here. I only got cut because when I tackled him, I fell and hurt my arm, so I didn’t dodge his knife quite quickly enough-- I recovered quickly and took him down, it was not quite so dire as you are picturing in your head.” She leaned in and kissed him, unable to keep her passions to herself any longer.

“Jack, marry me?” He was kissing back, needing to get rid of the salt on her cheeks and now on her lips.

“You insane woman, of course I’m going to marry you, I thought that was fairly decided by now!” 

“No, Jack, you don’t understand. I want to marry you now- as soon as possible. I don’t think I can wait any longer. Let’s get married. This week.” 

“Phryne, you’re upset, this is just the fear and the stress talking, we know that you have been a bit… emotional lately. By this time tomorrow, you’re going to feel perfectly fine.”

“No, Jack, I mean this. This isn’t the fear or emotions or my pregnancy or stress, this is me finally getting my head out of my own ass and knowing what matters. I’m pregnant, the waiting period is moot at this point, we can push it through with the magistrate. Tomorrow, let’s get married tomorrow.”

He pulled away from her, looking at her face, not knowing what in the world he was supposed to do with this demand.

“But Phryne, we haven’t found a celebrant, we haven’t invited anyone, we don’t have anything planned. I told you I didn’t need a big wedding, I don’t WANT a big wedding, but I wouldn’t mind having my parents and sister there, I’m sure you’d prefer to have your aunt and Jane back from their holiday, and we need to work out some of the finer points of our lives post-marriage.”

“What do you mean, Jack? What matters other than us getting married? We need to get a license, a ring for you and two people who can legibly sign their names to the certificate!”

“Phryne, you would never get married without Jane being there, you know that. But beyond that, what about my family? We haven’t talked about what to do with my house, or our finances or even what you may want to do about your last name! You can’t just bulldoze me into this!”

She took a step back, staring at him, mouth agape.

“Jack, that’s…” He interrupted her by kissing her, hard, needing her to feel how much he loved her.

“Phryne. I meant it when I said all you have to do is name when and where and I will be there. But please. I’m going to need to fill out considerable paperwork on my injury, and then I’ll be home for two weeks, which I’m not going to protest because I would rather be with you to discuss all of this, everything.” He kissed her again, she seriously needed to know his love for her. “But I do think there are a few things we still need to address before it all happens.” He gazed at her again. “I love you, Miss Fisher. And I’m so anxious to meet this little bundle growing inside of you that some nights I can’t sleep… well, whether that’s anticipation or the child’s mother’s effect on me, I have no idea.” She smirked back a bit. “Please, let me finish my paperwork here and write my statement for the prosecution. I will be home to you, at Wardlow, by dinner. And then you have me all to yourself for two weeks, at the very least. I promise you, we will set a date by the time we go to bed tonight.” He kissed her forehead as he walked her out of his office.

 

__________________________________________________________________

“How about next Saturday evening, Jack?”

“I’m sorry?” He had been reading over his statement to the prosecution when she spoke up, it was after dinner and they had retired to the parlour where he was trying to finish up his work.

“Next Saturday, I think we should get married next Saturday on the 17th. Jane and Aunt P will be back from their holiday, it should give your parents and your sister time to arrive in town and I was able to find a charming old friend of mine who is currently a magistrate and happens to be available that day. I’ve also spoken with an Estate Agent and they can take on the listing of your house if you want to sell or let it out, he seemed to think in this market it may be easier to find a tenant rather than a buyer. And I have put my solicitor onto the task of adding you to all of my legal affairs and financial concerns- you will need to go into the bank to sign some paperwork to have access to the accounts for the household, the investments and such, but all the paperwork will be finished  and ready at that point. Oh, and I have a few catalogs for wedding rings from some shops in town, you can peruse at your leisure, many of them are available immediately, unless we want something custom.”

How was it possible for any one person to get so much accomplished in a span of 3 ½ hours? But that was Phryne, it had been his mistake to list all the delays before they could get married, she took that like a bull takes a waving red flag in a ring. Speaking of rings, she had handed him a large stack of jewelry catalogs with a few pages turned down, he flipped to those immediately, and immediately choked on his whiskey.

“500 pounds for a wedding ring?” Granted, it had been about 20 years since he had been in the market for one, but he seemed to recall spending about a tenth of that back then. He looked again, it was wide, possibly ½ inch across and had etchings of something that looked a bit like hieroglyphics and a few small sapphires set in the front. “It’s a bit… gaudy for my tastes, Phryne. And I’ve found that I don’t have quite the heart for Ancient Egypt I used to.” Ever since her brush with death at the hands of Egyptologist Murdoch Foyle, he had found himself straying away from even his beloved Antony and Cleopatra at times. He thumbed through a few more glossy pages, quickly coming to think this jeweler was not his particular cup of tea. 

“Well, you can choose anything you like, I won’t say a word on the style, if you tell me we can get married one week from Saturday. It’s only 9 days away, but I was hoping it could be just family,” he knew her well enough at this point to know her definition of family; “we could do it here, or at Aunt P’s if you’d prefer a little more space, she does have lovely gardens. I spoke with the Fleuri sisters a few days ago and they believe they can have a dress ready for me by then, its relatively simple- I am obviously foregoing the traditionally abrasive and overly virginal white for a stunning pale but shimmery gold silk. While I did not really expect to have any kind of wedding party, Jane looked so depressed over NOT being a bridesmaid I asked her to be my Maid of Honor and have a lovely but simple design for her. You wouldn’t need to wear a tuxedo or anything of the kind, one of your suits and a dashing tie should be perfectly acceptable, and I know that Aunt P is going to have a bit to say about such a small affair, but honestly Jack…”

“Phryne, stop. You do not have to convince me of anything. If you are sure that this is exactly what you want, then I think next Saturday in your living room is just perfect.” Jack thought back 20 years, to his wedding to Rosie. Even then her father had quite a bit of money and status, it had taken them some 8 months or so to plan a wedding for 250 people, the only thing he had put his foot down on was that it had to be smaller than the original guest list of 400. He honestly didn’t remember all that much of the day, he was so terribly nervous-- worried he was going to drop the rings, worried she would not show up after all. The entire time she had been so focused on her 6 bridesmaids, her custom gown with a train that seemed to take up the entire length of the aisle and making sure she had the exact perfect color of pink roses in her bouquet. The idea that the very fashionable and social Miss Fisher really didn’t want ANY of that… granted, she had just begun to show in a way that was more than a little bit suggestive of her condition, perhaps she just didn’t want to deal with the gossip; but he had trouble believing she was so happy to forego it all. 

Almost as though she could read his mind she sat next to him, pulled his good arm around her shoulders, pulling herself into him. “Jack, I was NEVER the girl who sat around thinking of her perfect wedding. Well, that may not be entirely true. I do remember planning a wedding when I was younger, my fiance was the dashing Bobby Jackson- the first guy foolish enough to propose to me.” Jack turned to her, arching an eyebrow, this was not something she had ever shared with him. She arched her brows looking back at him, a glimmer of a smile on her face. “He was the handsomest boy on the block and had the most delightfully naughty swearwords I had ever heard a 10 year-old boy utter. You see I was only 8 at the time and had quite a bit to learn about the world, he seemed anxious, even at ten, to teach me.” She smiled at him while Jack tried to picture a 10 year-old boy in Collingwood, proposing to  8-year-old Phryne Fisher.

“And that wedding, did it never take place?”

“You know, as I think about it, I do believe that it did after all. I seem to recall having “borrowed” one of Aunt P’s lace tablecloths to wear as a veil, a VERY long veil that was dragged through quite a bit of mud as I walked solemnly down the aisle to my groom. I believe I was walloped thoroughly by my father over that one, I couldn't sit down for a week, but I believe it was worth it for the rather ethereal effect it created as I went down the aisle, I was the Princess from a fairy tale.” She was caught up in a wave of happy nostalgia thinking about one of her better childhood memories. “I believe we pinched a suit coat from someone’s laundry line so that he would be assured of the appropriate attire for a groom.”

“And the officiant? The attendees? I assume it was a properly attended event, something so distinguished and monumental should be, of course.”

“I believe we invited all of our friends from school, so long as they brought us wedding presents, because Bobby certainly wasn’t going to go through all of that if he didn’t get any candy or marbles out of it.”

“Heartless man, given the opportunity of marrying Phryne Fisher and reveals himself to be a mercenary!”

Her voice got very soft, remembering, “Jane walked me down the aisle, giving me away just beautifully, just enough tears as were fitting for the occasion...” She had forgotten about that, her beloved sister playing the role of the proud, beaming mother or father. She was smiling but teared up a bit, her breath caught just a little bit.

Jack wanted to kick himself horribly right there. Of course, if Phryne was 8, Jane would have been 6. He pulled her into him, trying to find a way to truly embrace her without dislodging his left arm from its sling. He kissed her on the top of her head, trying to think what he could say.

“I’m sure you were an absolutely beautiful bride. But, for my money,  I would bet that you will be even more stunning next Saturday, stolen lace veil or no.”

She wasn’t sobbing, it was far calmer than that, the sadness and wistfulness of her voice.

“I just… it would have been wonderful to have her here. She would have liked you very much, Jack. And now I’ve also lost Arthur… It just all seems so far away from my childhood.” He understood all too well what she meant. After all, his brother Oliver had been the Best Man in his wedding to Rosie, he died only 6 months after the wedding-- the last picture Jack had of him and his brother was of that day, over time it had become a particularly difficult picture to look at with any kind of happy associations.

“Oh, Jack, I’m so sorry. This can’t be any easier on you than me, can it?”

“No, I don’t suppose it is, for either of us.” She leaned into him again, he kissed her cheek, feeling oddly comforted by that small acknowledgement and gesture. “But I suppose we can’t do anything about that, can we? What we can do is focus on the family we are creating for ourselves, try to find some peace and happiness in that.” They sat quietly together, for a few moments, indulging in a few moments to remember their losses. 

“Jack, what would you think about… how would you feel about, if it is a boy, naming him Oliver?” She pulled away from him so that she could look into his face, wanting to see in his eyes. He looked at her a bit surprised, he had actually thought about it a few times, dismissing it each time, not thinking that she would want something so sentimental. Not to mention, he wasn’t sure how it would feel to hear that name all day everyday; let alone what if the child took after him? Could he handle the constant feeling of being haunted by his dead brother?

“It doesn’t always have to be a painful association, you know. In so many ways, Jane has helped me to find ways to think more of the happy memories of Janey- actually put some of the painful shadows behind me. But I don’t want to push if it doesn't seem right to you… just, promise me that you’ll think about it, please?”

“You never fail to amaze me with your beautiful heart, Phryne. I promise, I will think about it.” They fell back into a comfortable quiet, each thinking about the loved ones they had lost, far too soon. After a while, he spoke again.

“Do you think it is a boy?”

She smiled. “All I know at this point is that the child is a rambunctious athlete who loves to tap dance or do judo inside my belly. And the child is most definitely yours, I don’t think I’ve gone more than an hour at a time without being hungry in the last 4 months. It almost makes me long for the days of corsets being fashionable, I have no idea how I will ever return to my former figure after this.”

“Does the child really kick so much?”

“My God, morning and night, it just doesn’t stop! Here,” she took his good hand and placed it on her stomach, moving it about for a minute, he was trying to figure out what she was doing when all of a sudden she smiled and he felt something. It wasn’t heavy, not to him at least, it had her wincing slightly, but it was a very definite sensation of being pushed away, from her stomach. He looked at her in absolute wonderment. “Is that--?” She chuckled at his face.

“That, Jack, is your child. He or she generally seems to be nocturnal, waking up around dinner time and not helping me get much sleep the last two weeks.”

“Is it painful? It seems that it could be rather uncomfortable.”

“Its really more annoying than painful… and I’m sure that this is just the beginning of a lifetime of my saying that about this child.”

“I just… I still.. Sometimes it still feels like it isn’t real, but right now- my God. I just can’t believe that this is all happening.” He pulled her in and kissed her thoroughly, so full of true joy he was actually concerned his heart may just burst out of his chest. “So, next Saturday?”

“Yes, Jack. Next Saturday. Not a day later.”

“Well, I suppose I should go and call my parents, shouldn’t I? I don’t suppose I will be able to tell them everything over the phone, so I should probably write them a letter, filling them in on some of the… more delicate pieces of information.”

“You mean, they don’t know?” Jack turned red at that, he hadn’t actually told his parents yet about the baby, or the engagement for that matter. He had been trying to delay that for as long as was possible, but it didn’t seem that he would be able to put it off any longer.

“I just- well, I don't know quite how to tell my Presbyterian minister father and my former parochial school teaching mother that I’m rushing not to the altar, but to the magistrate’s office to avoid my child, that I’m having with a flapper who is also a member of the aristocracy and considerable heiress, being an illegitimate bastard. My parents are actually relatively modern and liberal, considering they were wearing diapers when Manet and Monet were being turned away from the art world for being subversive and the phonograph was invented-- my father still tells stories of seeing his first electric light bulb while away at Seminary!”

“Are you… are you sure you want to tell them? Would it perhaps be better if it was a _fait accompli_? We could get married and then take a train out to see them, share news of the elopement and coming child then? I’d hate to make things difficult for you and your family, I know how much you respect and love them.” She looked away from him. She had to admit that it was uncomfortable for her, she did not come from a family like Jack’s… and she had always been either far too poor or far too rich to have to worry about doing things properly. Her father certainly was no man of devout faith, her mother had been very religious until the disappearance and presumed murder of her youngest daughter. Phryne remembered being taken to Sunday school regularly while her family counted on church charities to survive- two or three years after Jane’s disappearance, they were plucked out of the severest poverty and could afford to let their true feelings and general disinterest in faith show.

“Phryne. Nothing about us has ever been traditional. Nor have I ever for a moment been ashamed of a moment of it. I can’t explain how happy I am that you decided you wanted to marry me, but I honestly tried as hard as possible to NEVER expect it, knowing that I could never be happy if you weren’t in my life, even if it meant you never married me. My parents are going to be shocked- I have to admit that for a very long time I was a “good son”... the divorce shocked them thoroughly and while things have improved between us since then, especially in the light of Sanderson's other activities since. 

“Jack, that was hardly your fault! You did everything you could to keep that from happening!”

“That doesn’t necessarily matter, Phryne. You know that. It isn’t that they’re best friends with Rosie, after all… we were both failures. Granted, we’re lucky we weren’t Catholic, divorce isn’t a sin… but it’s still a failure.”

“I suppose that’s true. Will they never approve of or like me? Am I only ever going to be spoiled goods to them?” He was a little surprised, he had a hard time thinking of Phryne as someone who needed, much less WANTED, the approval of anyone.

“My darling girl, of course they will-- how could anyone possibly not adore you? Believe me, I actually TRIED, and you had me around your finger within weeks!” He missed being able to cradle her head in both his hands. Instead he cupped his one hand under chin, so she was looking in his eyes. “My family may be shocked… it may even be difficult for them to try and wrap their heads around their Little Jackie having… done so much in such a short time; and I can’t promise they’re going to be all right instantly… but they WILL love you, God help them if they try not to! And even if they don’t, it would never alter my feelings for you. Or our child. I’m going to tell them. I’m going to invite them to celebrate this occasion that has my heart dancing at the thought of… and I truly hope that they are happy for us. But, they will not be IN this marriage. I will, and you will. Nothing else matters. Not in the least. So I am going to go and call them right now, if that’s fine with you, Miss Fisher- MY Miss Fisher.” He stood up to use the phone in the hallway when she called to him.

“Jack?”

“Yes?” He turned at the doorway to see her.

“Robinson.” He raised his eyebrows at her, having no idea what she was saying.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Robinson. I’m going to be Phryne Robinson. So it actually matters quite a bit to me, whether your family likes me, if I’m to be one of them.” He was in the archway of the room, leading out to the hall, but he felt frozen and confused, as though she was suddenly speaking in tongues.

“I may… due to my title, still be considered the Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher for some occasions or reasons. But I want us to be as much of a family as possible. I plan to be a Robinson, just as this child will be. So, hopefully they will be able to accept me-regardless how unconventional we may seem.”

“Phryne, are you sure? I don’t want to ask you to…”

“Jack, I told you. There will be plenty of times I’m the daughter of the Baron of Richmond, Lord Fisher. But I want to be the Robinson family. You know me… if I’m in for a penny, then I’m going to be in for a pound.”

He crossed the room in about five seconds, pulling her up from the sofa and to his lips, knowing they needed to talk so much more about this major decision, but so incredibly grateful for her attempt that nothing else mattered right there. After he started brushing his lips up her neck, moving to nibble on her ear she tried to remind him, “Jaaack… didn’t you need to go make a telephone call?” As she leaned in to his lips and his body, loving the way they made her feel… trying to figure out exactly how this could all work with his arm bandaged up and in a sling.

“Maybe it’s a bit late for me to call them, I would hate to alarm them, make them think anything is wrong. I suppose I could telephone them in the morning. That may be the more responsible approach.”

“You are such an excellent son.” And with that she turned into him and bit at his tongue, ending the conversation for quite a while that evening.  


	17. More Precious Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Some things are more precious because they don't last long.” Oscar Wilde
> 
> What happens when they tell Aunt P and start to prep for the wedding?

Aunt P had been a bit taken aback by the announcement of her niece’s rather delicate state and necessarily impending nuptials… Jane had been thrilled- thank God Phryne had been able to have influence on making sure Jane had very liberal tendencies and sentiments. Once Aunt P had been assured that despite the “accident”, it was considered by both to be a fortunate and happy one, they were very happy to be married either way, she began to come around. She had liked the Inspector for some time, she truly did believe that he may be just want Phryne needed in her life- but she still had to push aside the fear that her niece was making the same, irreparable choice as her mother once had.

Once Prudence truly believed this was what Phryne wanted, child or no child (for what was a little scandal over the permanent happiness of this dear girl?), it quickly became a battle over whether Prudence would host the wedding or not. Well, it would be a battle of course, if not for the fact that Phryne was actually very tired and suddenly, her morning sickness had seemed to return and Jack truly was no match for Mrs.Stanley on his own.

“It is ONLY right that being her ONLY family in this hemisphere, and her being the daughter of a Peer, I should host the event! We can handle the scandal of an early birth and the small guest list for the wedding itself, so long as it is an actual wedding. We shall have it at my home, Phryne won’t have to do a thing. It can be absolutely as intimate an event as you like, but it will be a true wedding celebration-- we will simply make sure it is known to be ‘exclusive’. Yes, exclusive should work. Before we know it, the upper crust of Melbourne will be falling over themselves swearing they were in attendance at THE wedding of the year. That should do quite nicely. Well, I shall talk to Mr. Butler about the menu, yes, he will be invaluable in assisting Mary-- she has certainly come up to scratch in terms of a dinner party, but a wedding weekend at the house would be a bit of a stretch on her own. Inspector, I trust your family will stay with me? I suppose they plan to arrive Wednesday or Thursday so as to have an opening supper before the rehearsal dinner, and then of course a Saturday wedding and Sunday brunch…” She wandered out of the parlour of Wardlow and into the kitchen, calling for Mr. Butler as she did so.

When Phryne returned to the room after having to excuse herself to handle the most recent bout of nausea, Jack had his head in his hands and was almost as pale as she was- he had no idea how to tell her that he had truly and utterly failed to stand up to her Aunt.

“Jack? What is it, what’s wrong?”

“I seem to have even less ability to withstand your aunt as I do you.” She looked at him, he stood up, looking truly horrified. “I believe she is currently speaking with Mr. Butler about how to handle a 14-course welcome dinner for the wedding weekend at HER home and for all I know she’s already had Dot contact local experts on ice sculptures, swans and an attempt at getting the Archbishop of Canterbury here to perform the ceremony!”

“Jack, Aunt P is a Methodist… of sorts… she’s hardly likely to invite an Anglican dignitary to perform the wedding… nor is she likely to delay the event-- each day we grow considerably closer to the kind of scandal that takes years, rather than weeks or months, to overcome.” She snaked her arms around him, he was out of the sling, but the brace around his arm was still cumbersome. She began kissing him, trying hard not to laugh.

“And what, Miss Fisher, is so hilarious that you are taking such delight in my horrible defeat? On your behalf, I might add!”

By now Phryne was laughing so hard she was having trouble keeping it quiet… or standing on her own. She leaned against his shoulder, trying to stop from doubling over with laughter.

“What on earth is so funny? Do you not understand that your Aunt has completely stepped in to hijack our wedding-- YOUR wedding? Who knows what it’s going to be like now! You wanted something small and simple, right here in this room!”

She looped her arms around his neck and bent over to kiss him. “Jack, all I care about is marrying you as quickly as possible. So long as we are married next Saturday, there is absolutely nothing else that truly matters. And if I don’t have to worry about menus or flower arrangements or absolutely anything else. This just gives me the next six days to enjoy absolutely every second of our time together. You are on leave, I now have NO arrangements to make for this wedding… I merely have to sit here and prepare for your family to come into town.”

That part brought out a bit of anxiety in her voice, he couldn’t help but notice her shoulders tense up, her breath change. Who knew, perhaps her throwing herself into a more involved wedding would have been a good distraction for her from that. He knew that his family would like her, they wouldn’t even take long to come to love her-- but they would definitely be on their guard, for his sake, at first, but she was an impossible force to resist and he knew they would fall under her spell as quickly as he had.

“Will you please stop worrying about that? I told you…!” He swung her down onto his lap, her legs lying across the chaise, her arms still about him.

“You told me your father is a lovely but fairly devout minister, your mother is an incredibly devout, but practical woman who used to teach at a parochial school known for its strictness and discipline. And I believe your sister is married to a Deacon at the church, your sister teaches Sunday school and they have four children. Jack, I couldn’t be less like them if I actually tried! I mean, should I take down the pictures throughout the house? Are they too graphic? Too modern? I suppose if everyone is at Aunt P’s for the weekend, we can avoid the issues there,for now. Although, I suppose we’ll have to be more careful if we do decide to move from Wardlow to a bigger home, with the baby; we should probably redecorate so as to not upset anyone when they come out to visit the baby. And this weekend, I’ll make sure that Aunt P has us in rooms at opposite ends of the house so that no one makes any comments. Although, is that overly suspicious perhaps?”

Now it was his job to try and keep from laughing. Even if he took her concerns more seriously, he just couldn’t believe how bent out of shape she was about this! She didn’t seem to know whether she was coming or going! It was just so nice to feel, for a change, that he wasn’t the only one who seemed at a disadvantage at times in the relationship. Just before he actually lost it and cracked up, she began to turn green about the gills, pulled her hand in front of her mouth and ran out of the room again. Was she so nervous that she was actually sick over it? He shook his head and decided not to pursue and push the issue, he needed to get back to the mountains of paperwork Phryne’s solicitor had sent over for his review and signature.

As he thumbed through the paperwork he saw the balances on each of her bank accounts and it almost made him pass out. He knew that her father was a Baron, and the estate was entailed to male heirs only, but she had managed to take her income and allowances and invest them wisely since 1919, when she had turned 18-- thereby getting around her father and take possession and control over certain funds herself.

She had been surprisingly adept at finance, even from a young age. She had generally stayed away from “schemes”, stuck to commodities like gold, diamonds, palladium, as well as property and art-- buying up artists such as Sargent, Vallotan, Klimt… a few Fauvists and even one or two earlier works of Kandinsky. Every once in awhile she had found a more sound stock-based investment, but was almost religious about pulling out from the investments once she had hit appreciation between 30-150% of her original investment.

Jack had always lived a very modest life. Just the annual budget for Phryne’s household was more than three times what he was paid in a single year. Between Mr. B and Dot’s extremely generous wages (he was beginning to believe he should have become a butler, rather than a lowly servant of the public), the stipends to Cec and Bert, the sizable tips to the butcher, the milkman, the fishmonger… as well as the additional wages to housekeeping, laundry and garden services that came in at least once each week, depending on the season and her residence at Wardlow. When he saw the full balance of her investments and savings accounts he was fairly certain he was going to have a stroke. How was it possible for one woman, a woman who wasn’t even TECHNICALLY a Baroness, would NEVER be one at this point, could possibly have so much ready cash AND such substantial assets and long-term wealth?

On the other end of the spectrum, the potential sale of his bungalow near City South Station was coming in so he could actually walk away with a few thousand pounds from it, which Phryne insisted would be his to do with however he liked. Looking at her finances, he couldn’t begin to imagine what that would be, what could he or she or their child possibly lack? He could always let it, of course, but since he clearly wouldn’t need the money in the near future, he wasn’t sure what made the most sense. Perhaps he could use it to set up a scholarship fund or something for his nephews and niece? Use it to buy more expensive suits and ties? Phryne did seem to enjoy his sartorial choices. Or he could send the money to his parents, let it make them more comfortable, pay for his father’s arthritis treatments and his mother’s penchant for courses at the local community center in gardening, dance, cooking-- anything that got her out of the house…and her weekly habit for the local mahjong games (it was a mild habit, not exactly lavish nor was it totally inconsequential).

As he flipped through the paperwork, he stopped on something that must have been accidentally included by her estate agent. It was a picture of a home, also in St Kilda, still along the Esplanade. But, rather than the bijoux styled townhouse she lived in now, it was a large, Spanish revival house, not unlike many of the large, off-white stucco and terracotta ones he had seen in various Hollywood lifestyle magazines about the house that she swore belonged to Dot. He had to admit, it was stunning. He looked through the black and white photos of the warm, homey ceiling beams, intricately carved wrought iron features, thoroughly modern kitchen and bathrooms… the cool terracotta tiles in many rooms and the whitewashed walls… it was cozy and comfortable and stunningly modern all at the same time. It was much larger than Wardlow- a lovely, but admittedly small home; when Jane was in residence, with Mr. B and occasionally Dot, it only had one guest room, which wouldn’t quite allow for both Jack’s parents and his sister to visit- much less anyone else, and that's before the baby is born.

As he looked through the pictures, he noticed she had made notes on the floor plans; she had noted a spot for a grand piano in one room, a study she noted as “Jack’s Room” with wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves for his beloved works… every inch of the house had been lovingly and carefully examined to accommodate not just her interests, or even the interest of their child, but she had sincerely and totally thought of him, of his comforts and what he would enjoy.Then there were the notes he spotted throughout the listing papers:

“2 miles shorter to Station for Jack… room for nursery, a schoolroom, a nanny’s suite and friend’s nursery for overnight fun...“ There was even a small but comfortable cottage out back with the note, “Jack’s parents? My mother… NOT Father, come Hell!” He couldn’t believe she had made notes like that on a home she was looking at… it almost made up for the fact that she hadn’t even spoken with him about the whole thing. He went in search of her, she had run out of the room rather quickly.

He found her in her bathroom, he assumed she kneeling over the toilet again. It had been at least a month, if not more, since she’d had nausea quite like this. Between her continued nausea, the headaches, the dizziness that had seemed to never end, he was actually starting to think this may be their only child, he wasn’t sure he could possibly put her through this again-- even if she was at all willing to do so a second time.

He knocked lightly on the door to the commode, which was slightly ajar. “Phryne, I think we should probably address this in your paperwork, this…” He trailed off as he noted the sweat that was absolutely pouring down her face, she was on the floor in a fetal position, almost hugging her knees to her chest while shaking and dry heaving. He moved into the room swiftly, falling to his knees, “Phryne, what the… are you alright? What’s wrong?” He tried to sweep her up to him and noticed the slightest smear of blood on the white tile of the floor, below her waist.

“Phryne? Phryne! Are you alright? Phryne, what in God’s name is the matter?”

She moaned, not really trusting her stomach to let her speak. “I don’t feel... “ She sat up instantly, vomiting. “Jack, I don’t… Mac. Call Mac.” And then she fell back to the tile, enjoying the cool, dry feeling against her skin. She was stripped down to her camisole and her large, billowing slacks were hitched up to well above her knees, the more skin that met the tile, the cooler and better she felt.

Jack ran to the top of the staircase, holding onto the railing as though his life depended on it- without this grip, he’d never manage to stand on his own. At first his voice faltered, but it quickly found a reasonable tone, as free from panic as possible. “DOT! Mr. Butler! I need someone to call Dr. Mac. Immediately. It’s Phryne!”


	18. The Advantage of Science Is That It Is Not Emotional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The advantage of the emotions is that they lead us astray, and the advantage of science is that it is not emotional.” Oscar Wilde
> 
> How is Phryne doing? How is the baby? What happens when Jack and Mac get some more time together?
> 
> Next chapter? Meet the Robinsons!!!!!

It was amazing the way every person in the house moved so quickly to try and help. Within moments of his call for help he had Phryne in his arms as Dot and Mr. B hurried to make her bed, find a hot water bottle to stop the chills. Jane ran to the phone and called Dr. Mac and then found Bert out back smoking, ordering him to go and pick up the Doctor and never mind about speed limits or anything else. Aunt P and Dot helped Phryne into pyjamas, Prudence trying not to wince to visibly at the sign of blood. Jack sat next to her, on the bed, holding her hand and whispering soothing things.

Dr. Mac’s heavy footsteps could be heard shortly, and then she ordered everyone out of the room. “Yes, Jack, you too. I need to examine her and you just can’t be here for it.” He so badly wanted to refuse to leave, to protest, to kick and scream and throw a tantrum like a three year old, but he saw the look on Mac’s face- and thought better of it.

“I’ll be right outside the door, you’ll shout if you need anything?” She nodded and he left.

15 minutes she kept him in suspense. The house was eerily quiet, even with 9 people in it, everyone could hear the clock ticking and the traffic passing by in front. He was standing, he didn’t even have the energy to pace, nor would he move further away from the door than he was now. Mr. Butler came up to the hall outside of Miss Fisher’s room with a tray of tea and a bottle of very fine cognac- from his collection, he’d never presume on Miss Fisher’s best bottles, and this made him feel like he was doing something. Jack almost chuckled in surprise to see Mrs. Stanley and Dot pour two fingers of cognac (Mrs. Stanley downed hers rather quickly and reached for another). But maybe more surprising to Jack was that Bert and Cec opted for a cup of strong tea. Jack’s quizzical look was met with,

“We need to keep our wits, what if they need us to go for something, or another doc? Nah, we’re going to keep to tea until we know we can toast to her health.”

The door creaked open and Mac gestured for Jack to come in.

He looked at Phryne, in the bed, she looked tiny and still had a sheen of sweat all over her skin, but she wasn’t shivering anymore, she seemed more comfortable, Mac had given her some laudanum to make sure she slept. He had tears in his eyes, looking at her. In that moment he knew that he needed HER. He didn’t want to think about what this all meant for the baby, it could be very bad, but if he had to make a choice between his child and his reason for breathing every day, he would tell Mac to save Phryne, no matter the cost.

“How is she? Is she... “

“Its called pre-eclampsia, or toxemia. It’s actually pretty common in pregnant women, although not usually this early on. Essentially, the pregnancy has caused a massive spike in her blood pressure- we don't know exactly how or why, but I’ve given her potassium which should help. Has she been sick recently?”

Jack nodded. “About a week or two ago she started commenting that it felt like her morning sickness was back- she had been nauseous, dizzy, constant headaches.” Mac nodded with him.

“And neither of you bothered to call me?”

“We thought it was just… it just seemed exactly like the morning sickness, you said bad morning sickness could be a good sign, so we just assumed that everything was fine.”

“From now on, if she sneezes twice in a row, you call me- got it?” Jack nodded, feeling a knot in his stomach pull tighter.

“So will the potassium fix it? Is she alright? What about the baby?” He had to loosen the button at his collar, why was it so difficult to breathe?

“The potassium should help, but it won't fix it. I’ll come by every morning for the next week or two to give her an IV with potassium and some other drugs that will keep it at bay. Unfortunately though, she’s going to be spending the next 3-4 months right there, in that bed. She can’t have any stress or excitement. If we don’t get ahead of this, if she goes into eclampsia, we have to try and deliver the baby, immediately- that’s the only treatment once it gets to that stage.” She eyed Jack, turning paler by the minute and made the decision to get up and cross over to Phryne’s small bar cart to pour each of them some whiskey. As she walked back to hand him his drink she noticed that he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She handed him the glass.

“A little too much like Adelaide, no?” She was referring to the time spent the year before watching Phryne cling to life at a hospital in Adelaide, after she had crashed her plane. Jack nodded, silently, drinking the whiskey- she noticed it was bringing a little bit of his color back.

“Back then, I was on the cusp… we were on the cusp of everything. I never imagined that we would have a family. I wasn’t sure how long I could keep her interested, keep her happy. And now that I’ve tasted that… I’ve tasted bliss! I just can’t imagine my life without her." He took another large swig of his whiskey and continued. "We set a date. Next Saturday.” He wasn’t sure what he was trying to say, it was just sort of coming out. “I guess that may be out of the question now.”

“Jack, I did a pretty thorough exam. I’m a little worried about the bleeding, but I don’t think we need to panic. But I do want to talk to you about something I may have noticed during the exam. Some of the tests I did- measuring her uterus, trying to listen to the womb with my stethoscope… her size seems unusually large for this stage of pregnancy, and she had pretty rough morning sickness, and now pre-eclampsia…" She eyed him, trying to gauge what his reaction would be. "It’s possible she may be carrying twins.”

That was not at all what she thought he was going to say. He was fairly certain she was going to tell him that they would lose the baby, that Phryne was going to be in even graver danger- anything but that. He blinked a few times, was she joking? This wasn’t a good time to joke with him.

“Twins?” His eyes were so wide with disbelief it would have been hilarious, if not for the circumstances.

“I can’t be sure, you understand. There isn’t any way for me to see through into her belly, or really to hear both heartbeats distinctly. But she is much larger than her gestation age should be and the ways she has been ill are very common in multiple births." There was a slight smile creeping up his face, until he heard the sternness in her voice, "It also means that this is very serious, that she needs to listen to me, ACTUALLY listen to me and follow directions. I know she’s going to fight it, but she can’t. If it is twins, they’re almost always born pre-mature. They’re also usually very small, so we need to make sure they stay in there baking for as long as possible. Twins can be tricky enough in perfect circumstances, which we do not have here.”

He finished his glass of whiskey. Twins. A year ago, he didn’t think he’d ever have any children, just today he had been worried that this would be his only one… now he had the possibility of two?

“If I have to post officers round the clock and handcuff her to the bed, she will rest. I promise you.”

“Good, because I do not want to have to give her a cesarean and lose those babies. I’ve already determined if there is a girl she will become either a doctor or a lawyer, maybe a Judge.”

“If there is a boy?”

“I’ll try my hardest to overlook that.” She smirked back at him. “Although, I suppose if he had some of your temperament and intelligence, he just might turn out.” She winked at him, wanting him to know she was on his side.

“What about Saturday?”

“If I can get her blood pressure back into a reasonable level, I think we can work something out. But she cannot possibly plan any of it, it cannot be a lavish event, it cannot be stressful!”

“Mrs. Stanley I believe has very kindly…”

“Jumped in and completely taken over everything whether you like it or not?”

Jack smiled at that, it was nice to have someone he could commiserate with over Phryne's condition, her various family members and just about everything else, Mac really was a very good friend. “Yes, I believe so.”

“I can’t promise you will get to waltz her away under the stars all evening, but I think we can find a way to get her down the aisle to you so you can be legally shackled to each other.”

“My parent will be here in two days. I believe we were planning to go to Mrs. Stanley's to entertain them and my nieces and nephews- I think the tennis court and the swimming pool may help keep them from making us insane.”

“Remind me to pack plenty of valium and whiskey.” She smiled, looking at him, while he looked only at Phryne. “Jack, I need you to know that this is serious. I don’t want to overly concern you, but I won’t sugarcoat this. It could go badly. You two should probably talk about what you want to do should… should we have to make a decision about what to do, who to...”

“Save Phryne. No matter what you do, save Phryne.” She admired this man for his unwavering love of her best friend, but it wasn’t that easy.

“Jack, it doesn’t quite work like that. You know that. I have to ask her what she wants to do… IF she is unconscious and can’t made a decision, then I can come to you, if her lawyer says. But if it isn’t in writing, until you two are married, I legally HAVE to follow her orders. So you may want to speak with her.”

“Mac, I…”

“Jack, I know. Believe me, I know. But you have to talk to her. From my understanding, this is the kind of thing that married couples are supposed to be able to speak about. You don’t get make the call here. Not on your own.”

“Mac, I can’t let her…”

“Jack, it isn’t really your choice. I’m sorry to be so awful and frank about it, but it isn’t. And I can’t get drawn in the middle, I’m her doctor, I have to…” Now Mac was choked up, she was not really enjoying this conversation- she usually didn’t mind being particularly blunt with patients, she had studied the perfectly cool detachment of most physicians, but this wasn’t one where she could easily keep that distance.

“I’ll talk to her. I promise.” She leaned in and held his hands, fighting back tears, looking at her best friend in the world, there on the bed, and this man who loved her despite all her insanity and stubbornness and pride.

“All I can say is these kids had better be damn cute. This is a lot of trouble to go through if they’re ugly or rotten.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you watched Downton Abbey, you may know about Pre-eclampsia. I also have a few friends who suffered from it so I tried to do a lot of research into how it would have been treated in the 1920s... Hopefully I've been fairly faithful to the facts. Remember, neither Phryne nor the kid(s???) are out of the woods yet. I know it may seem like I can't give these two a Happily Ever After, but I'm trying to make sure everything seems real.


	19. The Advantage of the Emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The advantage of the emotions is that they lead us astray, and the advantage of science is that it is not emotional." Oscar Wilde
> 
> Sorry, I really thought I could get to the Robinsons this time, and then this coda to the last chapter happened- it needed way more time than a flashback to the convo, like I had originally imagined it. 
> 
> Don't worry, I understand we all probably need some fluff, a little less angst. Coming right up!

It had only been three days since Phryne’s collapse and subsequent diagnosis and Jack had had his hands full with helping prepare for the wedding, figuring out the best way to move Phryne to her Aunt’s home for the week AND how to keep a frustrated Phryne in bed. Granted, that had historically been an easy task, but given all the restrictions on physical activity Mac had levied, he had to find other means.

Now they were settled in a lovely guest suite at Mrs. Stanley’s… Prudence’s, (would he ever actually come to find calling her that natural?) It was 3:00 and Jack had finally convinced Phryne to lie down and sleep, convinced that the ten minute journey from Wardlow to Mrs. Stanley’s estate had been far too onerous for her. She was trying very hard to stay patient with the man as he bullied her staying in bed. Not that anyone else was any help against him- her Aunt, Jane and even Dot had become almost militant towards her attempts to even rise and bathe herself.=

But it was hardly any wonder why everyone was so fiercely loyal to Jack’s commands. When he had gone out to the hall on Monday, after speaking with Dr. Mac, he did not have the look of a man who had earned a reprieve, but like a man who had seen ghosts of the future. He looked so haggard and haunted Prudence Stanley was certain she would hear that her niece was dead or dying. As Jack tried to explain everything, he broke down and Mac came to his aid to tell them the diagnosis (a somewhat more positive version than she had given Jack moments before), and the orders for Phryne to stay in bed and rest for the remainder of the pregnancy. She did not mention the possibility of twins, that was a topic for the parents to discuss and share at their discretion.

There were many things the parents needed to discuss, none of which did Jack want to. He remembered how he had gone back into the room, shutting the door just a little too loudly, causing Phryne to stir.

“Jack?” He moved to the bed, sitting beside her, cradling her in one arm.

“What is it, Miss Fisher?”

“Jack, the baby? Is the baby alright? Is there something wrong with it?” She looked up at him, her expression almost childlike- sickly, terrified and needing comfort. In his lowest, most soothing voice he spoke while stroking her cheek.

“The baby is fine, my love. Dr. MacMillan says you have pre-eclampsia, its a problem with your blood pressure and its unpleasant and serious, but not at all uncommon. But the bleeding wasn’t a miscarriage or anything else, the womb seems to be in tact and that is excellent news. She gave you some medicines, but what we really need to do, to keep you and the baby safe, is to keep you in bed and well-rested.”

“For how long?”

Jack sighed, knowing how she was likely to take the news. He pushed back her hair to behind her ears, feeling her feverish skin and wanting so badly to be able to do something, anything to make her better.

“For the remainder of your pregnancy, I’m afraid. She says if we don’t cut this off at the pass, the only treatment will be to deliver the baby by an operation, and we don’t want that, do we?”

She gulped. It was so strange to think that only 6 months ago the thought of a child was one of the most burdensome and unwanted things she could think of. But now, now that her baby was in danger, all she wanted to do was to protect the child.

“Jack, what if it does get worse? The baby… could the baby die? Could I die?” She sounded like a child worried about monsters under the bed, only this monster was actually horrifyingly, terrifyingly real. Growing up in Collingwood she had seen more than a few of her school chums lose a mother or a sibling during childbirth, sometimes both. It didn’t happen quite as often amongst her richer circles these days, but it did happen.

“Phryne, that isn’t going to happen! Mac has already started giving you medicine to keep your blood pressure down and you’ll stay in bed and rest for a little while and everything will be perfectly fine.”

“But what if-?”

“Phryne, my darling, absolutely nothing is going to happen to you if you, for once in your life, do what others ask-- which is to say, nothing at all.”

“How long until… Did she tell you how long it is until the baby can be delivered? Safely?”

“Not specifically, but she thought it would most likely be somewhere between three and four more months away.”

“Please bring her in here, I need to speak to her.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead before getting up and moving to the door. He spoke for a moment and Mac followed him in.

“You called for me?” She came into the room with a bit of concern in her face, a cup of Mr. B’s perfectly brewed tea in her hands. “Are you feeling worse? Are you experiencing any pain, cramping or nausea?”

“No. Well, yes, a bit of nausea and my head still aches.”

“I can give you a bit of quinine for the nausea and have Dot bring you some ginger tea. I’ve got headache powders too, I don’t want to give you anything stronger than that, it may not interact well with the baby or your blood pressure since I already gave you a few drops of laudanum. So, what other questions do you have for me? What did Jack tell you?”

“That I’m to stay in bed until the baby is born.”

“Don’t get too despondent my dear. Most likely I won’t be requiring you to actually stay lying down in bed the entire day. I want you to rest as much as possible, and I would absolutely suggest you invest in plenty of reading material. Or perhaps you can finally decide to take up needlework or crochet.” Jack smirked at that one, the idea of Phryne doing precious needlework saying “Home Sweet Home” was particularly funny to him. “We’ll have to play it by ear for a while, see how it all progresses. I told your fiance that I think we can still make Saturday work. I’m not sure how much dancing you’ll be doing, and absolutely no more than ONE glass of champagne on the day of. But, if you behave between now and then, we should be able to manage something.”

“Are you sure, Mac? I don’t want to risk anything at this point.”

“Phryne, even if we all gather around your bed to get you two married, we will make it happen.” Phryne smiled and felt better as Jack sat down next to her again, but it was a fleeting emotion.

“Mac, how early could the baby be born, and be fine?” The good doctor raised an eyebrow at that one.

“Theoretically, we find that a normal, healthy baby could be born anytime after 32 weeks. So our goal here is really to delay labor for at least that long, but ideally we want to get to 34 or 36.”

“What if we can’t do that?” She looked terrified, on the verge of heartbreak. Her stricken look reminded Jack of how he felt when he thought she was dead behind the wheel of her idiot car.

Mac was not made of stone, no matter what her medical students thought of her. She moved to sit at the foot of the bed, realizing maybe her knees were starting to have trouble keeping her fully upright. “Well, I think we will. I see preeclampsia a lot, especially when I was doing my medical residency in the various slums of Melbourne, for some women it seems overexertion and poor nutrition can be a cause. But while it’s very dangerous, I know what I’m seeing, what we are dealing with, and I think if you can just rest, we should be fine.”

“Nutrition deficiencies and overexertion? But I’ve been a model mother-to-be lately- I’ve been eating well, I’ve barely been drinking or even dancing thanks to this damned morning sickness, I haven’t even been shot at by anarchists in ages! So what caused this?”

“Well, we don’t always know, sometime it just happens. But, there is one possibility that could be a contributing factor.” She looked to Jack, trying to ask with her eyes if he wanted her to tell Phryne, or if he’d prefer-- but he was so busy looking at Phryne’s face, he didn’t see. “ I can’t tell for certain, but based on various markers from the exam I gave you today, I think it’s very possible you could be carrying twins.”

“Twins?” Phryne was breathless, frantically searching from Jack’s face to Mac’s, trying to figure out if this was a joke or not. “What do you mean, twins?” She had only recently begun to wrap her head around the idea of having one child, the thought of having two was more than a little bit shocking and overwhelming right in that moment.

“I mean that right at this moment, there may just be TWO tiny babies in your womb.”

“Mac, that’s hardly funny.”

“Well you asked… never mind.” She rolled her eyes and continued. “You’re quite a bit larger than I would have thought for this point in your pregnancy, preeclampsia is also much more likely for someone as healthy as you are if there are multiple babies. I could be wrong, and I’ll be far more confident in about six weeks, but I think we have a pretty decent chance of there being two Fisher-Robinsons to completely upend our lives, rather than one. God help us all.”

But Phryne’s mind was spinning out of control and she had no time process any jokes or sarcastic comments. “Does that change anything for the timeline?”

“Well, twins are almost always born a bit early, and since they share a womb, they are smaller naturally. So if I’m right, in about six weeks you WILL be on a VERY strict bed rest regimen.” Phryne still didn’t look like she understood a word that was coming out of Mac’s mouth, as though it was some strange foreign dialect, which was nonsense because Phryne spoke dabblings of at least 12 languages. But she did notice that Jack looked particularly harrowed. Looking at both of their faces began to concern her even more.

“What is it? What aren’t you telling me?”

Jack and the Doctor looked at each other, trying to determine who was going to have to continue the conversation. Ultimately it was Mac who took a breath and started.

“Well, my dear, that is a bit of the problem. Unfortunately, twins will already be much smaller than most babies born- even on the rare occasions they make it to term, they’re still a bit on the wee side. But this illness is not going to help their growth or development, and multiple births also has a tendency to compound the severity of preeclampsia. Were you dealing with one or the other, I would just plan to deliver 3-5 weeks early, that would usually be fine. But, I’m concerned instead of end of February, we’re now looking at mid-January.”

“But, will the babies be developed enough by then?”

“Most likely.”

“But?” Phryne was squeezing Jack’s hand with all of her strength, making her knuckles white; and it would have been painful if Jack wasn’t squeezing back almost as tightly.

“But, I can’t make any assumptions or promises. In my experience, if you’ve made it this far into the pregnancy, far more often than not, the baby and mother are fine.”

“And… if they aren’t?” Jack barely managed to choke out- he wasn’t even trying to keep his eyes from filling with tears, and the look he was giving the doctor  was almost saying, ‘Please don’t tell her, lie to her.’” But Mac just didn’t have it in her to deny her duty, or lie to her best friend, regardless the implications.

“Well, at some point, we may be forced to deliver, most likely via cesarean.” Phryne blanched at that. She hadn’t at all been relishing the ordeal of childbirth, but being filleted open didn’t exactly suit her either.

“And?” It was hard not to notice that Jack had become a puddle of weepy glue next to her.

“Phryne, preeclampsia leads to eclampsia, which is a multi-system organ failure. If eclampsia begins to set in, I have to deliver the baby (or babies) immediately. We can try to stave that off as long as possible… but it’s a bit like rabies, once the signs are that pronounced, treating it is a bit too late to do anything for the woman.”

“So, what you’re saying is it could possibly come down to me or the child?” Jack stood up at that, he couldn’t quite stay so close to her, having this conversation, he didn’t understand where the question lay. For him, at this moment, that was the easiest decision he could ever make. He didn’t give a damn if he ever had a child, not at the expense of the woman about whom his entire world orbited.

Mac was obviously choked up at this point as well, but slowly she moved to nod. “I truly don’t think this will happen, I don’t.”

“But it could?” Asked a very small Phryne. Mac slowly and regretfully nodded.

Stunned, Phryne fought back tears. What could someone possibly say when handed the world’s most impossible choice. Mac looked at Jack- he was a red-eyed, tear-soaked mess, and he was angry. Angry at Mac. She knew that look- why couldn’t she just lie to Phryne and tell her it would all be fine and there was no need to worry?

“But I will say again, I do not think it’s something we should spend a great deal of time worrying about at the moment. It’s only a possibility, a fairly unlikely one at that. In the meantime, I suggest we all try to figure out how to make this Saturday wedding happen for you two; and perhaps we should err on the side of picking two names, what do we think?”

The silence of the awed couple was practically deafening to her. She stood up, sensing she was intruding now on what needed to be a private conversation for the couple. She stood up, kissed Phryne on the cheek and gave Jack a very sincere look of apology as she exited the room.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to so much for everyone for reading and for comments, it really does make me a better writer and researcher. I've tried very hard to find evidence on the medical and legal protocol of the day in terms of childbirth, preeclampsia, power of attorney and next of kin/advanced medical directives. You can imagine that they aren't so easily found (or understood) for a lay-person. I've received a few notes about treatment for preeclampsia especially- I know that potassium wouldn't fix the problem really, or that there are specific ways they try to get a mother to lay while on bed rest, etc., but from my understanding these are the treatments that doctors and/or midwives were giving at the time of the story (1929). I've also tried very hard to look for any statutes or common law case history in regards to the rights of a husband or father in making medical decisions on behalf of wife/child, and that has been even MORE obscure a topic, so I've gone with what I saw and erred on the side of if Phryne is so rich, she has a will, that will almost definitely would say what she wants done in this situation, so unless the decision is needed SO suddenly no one has time to check, Phryne's word goes. UNLESS, she specifically gave power of attorney to Jack should she become incapacitated.


	20. The Same Faults As Ourselves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can't help detesting my relations. I suppose it comes from the fact that none of us can stand other people having the same faults as ourselves.” Oscar Wilde
> 
> Finally we meet the Robinsons

Phryne was sleeping, quite peacefully it seemed- Jack had been reading to her from A Tale of Two Cities (after all, Jack, Dickens is almost tolerable when you are the one reading it) and had just gotten to the Bastille when he noticed she was snoring ever so lightly (it seemed snoring was yet another side effect of pregnancy, he had actually had to invest in a set of earplugs recently so he could get a few hours of sleep each night). There was a very light knock on the door that Jack hurried to open, not wanting anything to wake Phryne. 

“Oh, Mr. Butler, what can I do for you?” Mr. Butler had been brought along to Mrs. Stanley’s house to assist in preparations for the wedding, handle the bulk of the cooking, and to assist Phryne and Jack with whatever they may need. 

“Excuse me Sir, but it seems your parents and sister, along with a group of children have arrived. Would you like me to show them to their rooms?”

“Not just yet, Mr. Butler, thank you. I’ll come down with you to greet them. I assume Mrs. Stanley is already with them?”

“She is not, sir, I suggested to her that although as the Lady of the House she should probably greet them first, you may prefer a few minutes alone with your parents and your sister, so as to update them on Miss Fisher’s condition? She agreed and has stepped out so as to give you a bit of time with them.” Thank God for Mr. Butler, this man sould be the patron saint of household employees, discretion and mind-readers.

“You are a treasure, Mr. Butler.”

“Thank you sir. If you don’t mind, I’ve prepared a tray of tea and some foods, and I’ve put out cognac and whiskey in the parlour-- will that suit or would you like me to open a bottle of wine? I’m afraid I didn’t ask what your family prefers.”

“I’m sure that will be more than fine, thank you.” He followed Mr. Butler out of the room, double checking to see that Phryne was asleep. He knew she would want to go down and meet them, but he had a few things to discuss with his family first. He had written them a letter to explain the urgency of the wedding, but in light of the Chinatown case at work and Phryne falling ill, he had never actually gotten the chance to post it. All he had said over the phone was that they had decided they had waited long enough (his mother seemed more than a bit miffed he had kept the engagement from them for a month) and were anxious to take the plunge. 

As he came down the stairs he couldn’t help but break into a smile at the sight of his parents and his older sister Ginny. He hurried to his mother and gave her an enormous hug, breathing in her scent of lavender soap, Earl Grey tea and licorice candy. Even at almost 65 his mother was a very handsome woman with red hair that had only faded somewhat over time with a few strands of white hair woven in. 

“Hello Mother.” He kissed her on the cheek before turning to his father with a hearty handshake (his father not being the most demonstrative of men). “Father, it’s wonderful to see you, I am so happy you were able to make it from Sydney- I hope the train ride wasn’t too bad.?”

“It was perfectly comfortable and mercifully fast, considering we were traveling with all four of your sister’s children in one car.” Jack knew his father treasured being a granddad, the bulk of his seeming gruffness was really just a show. 

“You really didn’t have to take the Express, if it was inconvenient or difficult you could have arrived tomorrow.”

“Well, after all, it isn’t every day that a son calls his parents out of the blue inviting them to his wedding taking place in 9 days. Where is this woman who’s so damned excited to run down the aisle you can’t give your parents’ proper notice?” His father was not a harsh man, not in the least, but he was a very direct man. 

“Father, can you please wait to start on him until we are all in from the foyer? I for one wouldn’t mind giving my baby brother a hug and some of that delightful smelling tea that butler just brought through here.”

He turned to hug his older sister Ginny. He hadn’t seen her since Easter last year, more than a year and a half ago- he had intended to go home for Christmas that same year, but Phryne had been in the accident a few weeks earlier and he didn’t have it in him to leave her for any amount of time. The 5’7” redhead before him actually seemed to grow more beautiful with every year and every child. 

He pulled her to him declaring, “It is so wonderful to see you, I have missed you!” While hugging her he whispered into her ear, “I’m going to need your support in a moment, please make sure Father’s whiskey glass stays full and Mother only drinks tea- I really don’t think right now I can handle either of them being…”

“Their normal selves?

“Precisely.” He looked around him- “Where are the children?”

“They were distracted by some puppies across the way, Nathaniel has them, don’t worry- they’ll be in in no time at all, try to enjoy the calm before the storm. Shall we go have some tea?.” She linked her arm through her brother’s and allowed him to walk her into the parlour. He could tell his family was feeling a bit awed over the splendor of the house- he wished they could be at Wardlow instead, it was much less intimidating, but logistically it simply didn’t make sense. Mr. Butler was in the room, ready to serve from either the bar or the tea tray, encouraging them to sit and relax after their long journey. As he poured drinks he let Jack know “Mr. Yates and Mr. Johnson are taking luggage up to your rooms, we’ve put you in the wing of the house with Mrs.Stanley’s old nursery, so the children will have books and toys. I hope you don’t mind, but I thought it best… under the circumstances.” Jack nodded, knowing the man meant “in case they’re loud and rambunctious little buggers, it won’t interfere with Phryne’s rest.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Butler. I believe we are perfectly well set for the moment, I’m sure you have other things to attend to.”

“Yes, thank you, Sir.” and he left the room. Once the door was shut behind them, his mother pounced. 

“So, Jackie, tell us, where is your lovely fiance? We are so excited to meet her, we had hoped she would be here to greet us. Is she terribly busy with preparations for this weekend?” His mother was very good at poking and prodding to get answers, perhaps this was how Jack had developed his skills for interrogation. 

“Well, yes, about that. Unfortunately, right now, Phryne is quite ill, I’ve insisted that she stay upstairs and rest for the time being so she is in perfect shape for tonight’s meal.” His mother’s eyes narrowed as she looked at him, Jack was certain she had a very strong suspicion as to what was going on, and she shared a rather knowing look with Ginny. 

“I hope that it isn’t anything that is catching, I would absolutely hate to expose the children to anything dangerous.” His sister had grown up to be just like their mother, she wasn’t actually shocked or worried, merely fishing. May as well just out with it, it isn’t as though any of them will be all that shocked. Well, by the pregnancy, anyways, he wasn’t sure if her illness was going to affect how much his father disapproved of this whole thing. 

“No, it isn’t really that kind of illness.” Deep breath, a large gulp of whiskey for courage and he barrelled on. “Actually, Phryne is expecting. Our child. It would seem that I am finally to become a father, early next year.” 

“Oh Jackie, that is wonderful news!” His sister put down her cup of tea and moved to him for a long hug. He caught a glimpse of his mother who seemed to be tearing up, but smiling, so it was a happy thing for her, confirmed by her saying: 

“Jack, congratulations, that is amazing news, we’re so happy for you.” He leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, she was a wonderful mother. He snuck a peek at his father, sitting there quietly, holding his whiskey glass between his hands, eyeing Jack. 

“Father, I’m sure this comes off more than a little, well, as though we placed the cart before the horse, but I hope you can find it in your heart to accept it and be happy for us.” 

His father was quiet. “Well, I suppose that explains a few things for me, doesn’t it? I can’t really say I’m shocked, I couldn’t think of another reason why you were so twitchy to walk down the aisle, especially after how things worked out for you last time.” Try to ignore him, Jack. He likes to push you on these things, do not take the bait. “Well,” his father continued, “I suppose there is nothing to do but meet this woman, where is she did you say? Unwell? Surely she can make it down the stairs to join us for tea.” 

“Actually, father, no she can’t. Unfortunately, the pregnancy is not going quite as smoothly as one would hope- she was diagnosed with a rather serious condition this week and she is on strict orders to stay in bed as much as possible. She was able to fall asleep just a little while ago and I’m adamant that she will get as much sleep as she possibly can.”

His mother and sister gasped quietly, his sister asking in a very concerned tone.“Oh, Jack, no! I’m so sorry to hear that! Does that mean there won’t be a wedding after all?” 

“No, Ginny, we will be having this wedding, we’re both fairly resolute about that one. We’re making her rest as much as we possibly can between now and then, but even if I have to carry her down the aisle, she and I are simply tired of not being married any longer. Now, perhaps I should have Mr. Butler show each of you to your rooms? I know it’s a long trip from Sydney and I’d like to go and check on Phryne.” Somehow Mr. Butler had shown up right in the arched doorway as Jack said his name, as though he were conjured there. “Ah, Mr. Butler, if you could please show my family to their rooms, I’d like to check on Miss Fisher and perhaps go in search of my nieces and nephews before cocktails.” He turned to address his parents and sister, “I believe Mrs. Stanley is currently out but she has planned cocktails and dinner for tonight and you can all become acquainted with Phryne then.” He left the room trying to remind himself to stay calm and collected. He didn’t want to feel as though he was ashamed of what happened with him and Phryne- it was not an ideal way of going about things, but different means to the same end was absolutely fine with him.  
________________________________________________________________________

 

Knock. Knock. It was a light tap on the guest suite door, and when Phryne opened it, she was taken aback by the woman on the other side of it-- a woman who looked so like Jack Robinson (only with red hair) that they could almost have been twins. She too was tall and thin, but not without some curves, she had the same high cheekbones, the same beautiful brown eyes and the same semi-inscrutable expression on her face. 

“Miss Fisher? I’m Ginny Martin, Jack’s big sister. I know I should have waited for you to come down for cocktails, but I’m afraid Jack got all the patience in the family and I didn’t want to wait. He told us that you’re ill and I thought perhaps it was a good time to get to know each other a bit better… without the interference of my parents.” She swept past Phryne, looking at the living quarters her generally ridiculously moral younger brother was clearly sharing with this flapper of a somewhat infamous reputation. As she moved to settle herself in the sitting area of the room, Phryne looked her over, thinking that perhaps Ginny Martin was exactly her type of girl. 

“Well first of all, Ginny, as we’re to be family I hope you can call me Phryne. Now, can I pour you a drink?” She motioned to the bar cart next to the sofa, “I have an excellent whiskey, or if you prefer, I make a mean gin martini. Unfortunately, I can’t join you, the doctor has strictly forbidden me from drinking while I try to keep my blood pressure in check.”

“Whiskey, neat please, if you don’t mind.” Phryne poured the amber liquid and handed it over, retrieving the cup of tea she had been drinking earlier, but thinking about how delicious that whiskey would taste right now. 

“I hope that your trip wasn’t too bad. I have to admit, it’s been quite a while since I last did that journey by train- flying reduces the time by more than half and it’s so much more fun. Although I suppose I won’t be flying anywhere for a while.”

“Well, perhaps you could come out for a visit after the baby comes. Maybe for Easter? I’m not sure you’re going to be able to get Jack to fly, certainly not with a baby in tow… but we’d love to have you. We haven’t seen Jack much for holidays in years, we miss him. Especially my parents.”

“Well, perhaps we should wait and see about that. I get the impression things with them this afternoon did not go quite as well as Jack had hoped, I’m not sure how inclined they’re going to be to have us over for a while.”

Ginny just waved away that statement, taking another drink. “Mother is thrilled- her little Jackie,” (Phryne was always going to have to stifle a laugh when someone called him ‘Little Jackie’, wasn’t she?) “can truly do no wrong in her eyes, and the prospect of another grandchild is far too exciting for her to be truly upset. She has also always been a bit more modern and liberal than my father- to be honest, Jack wouldn’t be the first Robinson child to walk down the aisle with a baby on the way.” Ginny looked at Phryne, mouth agape. 

“You mean…?”

“Well, we had been engaged for quite some time, it really only moved the date up by about six weeks. I remember having to confess to my mother when my wedding dress didn’t fit quite right… she wasn’t particularly shocked or upset, she’s Scottish you know, so it wasn’t so uncommon for the Highlanders to participate in a sort of handfasting, wherein no license or clergy was really necessary. She managed to convince my father that with the rumblings of war had us so impatient we couldn’t possibly wait until June. And of course, when young Eddie arrived about a month “early”, it’s entirely possible my father pieced it all together, but I think it’s likely he finds it easier to just believe what he wants to.”

“Does Jack know?”

“You see, in many ways, they’re two apples from the exact same tree- and sometimes it’s easier to not think about it. Jack was always very good in school, I’m sure he could do the math on Eddie if he wanted to, but I’m also fairly certain he couldn’t stand to think of his big sister having erred like that.” 

“So does it seem likely that your father will forgive Jack his indiscretion? I suppose we’ve made it awfully difficult to pretend nothing inappropriate happened.”

“Papa is a wonderful man, and a good father and grandfather. But… his relationship with Jack has always been a bit strained, and only made worse since the war, and then the divorce… and now there is quite a lot for him to digest all at once. He’s not particularly good on his feet like that- he generally needs time to think and digest and adjust. I suppose Mother and I could have done a better job, tried to prepare him a bit, we both thought we knew some of the story as to what was going on here- but we did not want to borrow trouble if we were wrong. A good part of their problem, Papa’s and Jack’s, is that they both put far too much pressure on themselves to be perfect, no matter the cost.” 

“How big of a problem is this going to be?” Phryne loathed the idea of coming between Jack and his father, she knew particularly well how terrible it could be, a troubled relationship with a parent.

“Jack is not going to be happy with me if he learns I sold him out for only two glasses of whiskey.”

“Would it help if I poured you a third?”

“I believe that would be far more excusable.”

Ginny and Phryne settled into the couch, legs behind them, drinks refreshed, very comfortable for the story coming. Phryne knew so little about Jack’s early days and his relationship with his family- it wasn’t that he was tightlipped about it, or avoided the topic, but given both Phryne’s and his less conventional relationships with their families, they simply didn’t venture towards that conversation often. 

“I suppose it began when Jack announced he and Rosie were getting married. They had only been together a very short time, maybe three months? In fact, ironically, at the time we were all convinced that things had gotten ahead of themselves, hence the short courtship.In the end, since Rosie HAD to have this perfect day, honestly you would have thought she was a bloody princess, it ended up being months before the big day after all. Again, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was stretching it all to keep Jack from enlisting- she knew he wouldn’t leave until they were good and married. But really, they were madly in love and complete idiots. I’m sure you remember the early days of the war- the excitement was palpable, no one imagined it could last long, but it suddenly made everyone feeling like it was time to carpe diem.”

“Fortunately for me, I was already a seize the day kind of girl.” Phryne really did feel quite comfortable around Jack’s sister, perhaps this explained why he took to her particularly brassy qualities so well. 

“I did sense that about you… something of a kindred spirit, if you will.” Ginny took the chance to clink her whiskey glass against Phryne’s tea cup before she continued. 

“Well, in 1914, our little brother Oliver enlisted. He was only 20 and my mother was devastated, that was her baby. Rosie had thus far convinced Jack to wait, his career was actually going quite well in the Force and they were newlyweds, all that. If I’m being honest, in my less charitable moments I’m convinced she was merely worried about getting a widow’s pension. They managed to get married three days before Oliver left, April 1915. Jack finally got Rosie’s blessing to ship out about six months later, and by the time he got to France, he was met with news of Oliver’s death.” Ginny teared up just a little, but a fairly controlled sadness, the kind when it’s been long enough you can think of the person without the acrid taste of grief building up in your mouth and the back of your throat; when you can remember the good times and smile and miss the person, without feeling like your chest is about collapse in on your heart. 

“Jack doesn’t talk about Oliver. Believe me, I understand it, but it does seem odd that he never mentions him, not even happy memories.”

“That’s not surprising, I think he took it the hardest of anyone. I think, somehow my father started to blame him for Oliver’s death- perhaps if they had only gone together, been stationed together, Jack could have saved his life. And I think Jack welcomed that guilt trip, he’s the older brother, he should have done anything to keep his little brother safe, even if it meant he didn’t return himself.” Ginny got quiet for a minute, recalling things she hadn’t put much thought to for years. “I don’t think I’ll ever know exactly what those boys faced over there. I did what I could here in Australia- I grew my garden, gave up my stockings, I spent every spare hour I had helping at nursing homes, widows homes, orphanages. But despite the harrowing things I saw while I was working in the slums, working in hospitals with men dying from gangrene or mustard gas- or not dying at all, but trapped in their own minds, shell shocked, I could never know what it was like, there in the trenches. And then, Ollie never came home, but Nathaniel and Jack did and were… well, they changed.” They each sipped their drinks quietly, spending a moment thinking about those days. 

“For three years he wouldn’t talk about any of it, not at all. He wouldn’t even tell us about seeing Paris afterwards. When he heard French or German in the streets or in a book, he would go gray in the face and quiet. And the more my father took out his anger and grief about Ollie on Jack, the further Jack retreated into himself. Rosie tried to get him to simply “forget about it” and move on. To preserve her innocence and such, he never wrote her about fighting, camp life, trenches, movements- none of that. Hard to imagine such a brilliant strategy didn’t work, eh? Instead of nights spent dancing and at parties, Jack would stay home and read, or he would work. Then they had the idea that children would fix everything between them, she was convinced that a child would be exactly what he needed to snap out of his funk, and- to be fair to her- I’m guessing she was a bit desperate for some bare, open affection.” She got up to pour one more glass of whiskey for herself- dinner was still almost two hours away, after all. 

“When they first met, Jack couldn’t keep his hands off her. I don’t just mean that… although, I have my suspicions.” She had the look of the older, wiser and exceptionally perceptive big sister. “But he was never more than a few inches away from her, holding her hand, or putting his hand in the small of her back as he lead her out of a room. After the war, I’m not sure I ever saw him touch her again. I knew he had moved into a separate bedroom about a year after he returned, his nightmares left him talking in his sleep- at least that’s what he said when I asked. But he didn’t like talking, even to me, he just kind of went quiet.”

“Over time, he came around less and less and then Nathaniel was offered the promotion in Sydney and we thought it a good idea to move. Mother and Father saw no reason to stay in Melbourne if we were moving and Jack and Rosie didn’t seem to be having children. We didn’t know at that point that Rosie had moved in with her sister. I didn’t find out until later she did that almost at exactly the same time as we moved to Sydney. Poor Jack. I wondered for the longest time if he would ever actually come back to us- he used to be so much fun!”

“Jack Robinson? Fun? MY Jack Robinson?”

“Oh, he was always the one around the house pulling pranks, getting up wild games of pirates and mermaids or cowboys and Indians. He loved music, always and could play the piano beautifully- he would wander about the house quoting the Bard or Oscar Wilde or singing. He went through a major rebellious phase and became obsessed with ragtime and Scott Joplin. Swore that all other music was too stodgy, but ragtime was about the soul, the chaos of revolution! I believe that may have been around the time he read Thoreau and considered taking off to find his own Walden Pond. When I asked if I could go with him, I was promptly told no- because in search of true transcendence, he would be foregoing all material possessions, including clothing- and that while he adored me, he had no desire to even imagine me in my smalls, much less bare to the world.” Phryne was in absolute amazement. For a while she had suspected that there was much more to the Inspector than met the eye, he was a man of many talents and interests- but never in her life could she have imagined him to be this child his sister was describing-- the man that felt underdressed wearing a sweater around the house, rather than his vest and suitcoat!

“I can’t imagine your father handled that phase particularly well!”

“Oh, Papa was beside himself! Jack was always taking on the latest social cause- votes for women, child labor laws, aboriginal rights… all of which Papa was very supportive of, he’s quite the flaming Liberal, you know. But as Jack started testing the limits, reading Marx and Emma Goldman… that is when Papa started to worry. Jack was so brilliant in school, I think we all hoped he would go on to University, maybe become a lawyer or or politician, or even a college professor.”

“What changed?” How had the Jack Robinson who played ragtime and read Karl Marx become her Jack Robinson of the three piece suit and impeccably played Chopin Nocturnes? 

“What always happens. There was a girl. Miranda Gillis.” Phryne raised an eyebrow, her eyes sparkling. She had not heard of this girl from Jack- he had never uttered the name to her. 

“Miranda was one of my best friends through school, we were… I suppose I was 18, so Jack was about 16? She and I were trouble. I’ve always felt bad because Jack was so constantly in trouble with my parents for doing things like playing ragtime or declaiming from some Anarchist's’ manifesto, while I would skive off classes, smoke cigarettes, and drink cheap, truly terrible whiskey at social teas. I liked to subvert expectations and experiment a bit with the line between good and bad. But in fairly harmless ways, at least I thought so. But Miranda liked to shock people.”

“She had this gorgeous blond hair, watery blue eyes, she was absolutely prettier than a china doll. Jack was besotted with her, writing some of the most terrible poetry I’ve ever heard in my life, buying her small gifts- chocolates or the evil chewing gum… she at some point noticed him and decided to test her powers of influence. Ultimately, Jack and she were found in a fairly compromising, but not truly damning, situation at some picnic for the school. My father had a series of very long, very serious talks with him, he was grounded for at least three months, and from then on he suddenly got very serious about school, about the law… all he did at that point really was study, play piano and occasionally go to footie games with Ollie and some other boys. I don’t know that he even thought about another girl until Rosie came along.”

You could have knocked Phryne over with a feather. She had no idea that Jack had ever been quite so… well, quite so much like her! Of course, it sounded like he was quite a bit more tame than Phryne had ever been, but clearly there was much more to her fiance than she had ever known. And Miranda Gillis? What exactly was the “compromising, but not truly damning” situation in which they had been found? While she was pretty sure she could get the answer from Ginny, she had to think about how much more fun it would be to interrogate him. 

She heard the clock strike and she realized that they only had an hour until dinner, and Ginny having four kids, she assumed may need a good part of that time to get everyone ready. 

“Before I let you go so you can prepare for dinner… do you have any advice for me on how to handle your parents? I’m afraid the idea of “in-laws” is a very new and different concept for me, I have no idea what to do or say, especially under the circumstances.” She realized suddenly just how anxious she was to smoothe things over with her soon-to-be family. 

“Mama really is going to do what she can to make it easier for you. She’s been noticing for almost two years now that Jack has been… different. He’s been happy, he’s done a much more dutiful job sending letters, gifts, coming to visit. And when he’s around he’s smiling, he’s playing music, he’s quoting poetry… I think it’s possible she knew his feelings for you before either of you had any clue-- she’s practically a witch or a mind reader, she’s so perceptive.” Phryne blushed, just a little bit, but happy to take the credit for his happiness. “And of course, the prospect of another grandchild is going to weigh very heavily in your favor tonight. She won’t let anything come between her and her grandchildren, including my father’s bad mood or annoyance towards the circumstances.”

“And him?”

“Well, I have to admit, you are at a bit of a disadvantage with him- he doesn’t much care for the idle aristocracy, flappers, or jazz music/culture. And, as I’ve said, he tends to be very hard on Jack- news of the divorce did not go well with him, that was a “failure” and Robinsons, as a general rule, do not fail; the saving grace was that Father was no great fan of Rosie either- he thought her a cold fish and a bit of a flibbertigibbet, he never understood why Jack married her in the first place. But, I think if there was someone who could win over my father in this impossible situation, it may just be you.” She stood to leave, knowing she had quite a bit to do before dinner and wondering where her heathen monsters had gotten themselves off to in the last hour or so- it had been far too quiet to trust they were doing anything good. She leaned over to kiss Phryne on the cheek before going, and threw in one last comment. “Oh, and if I were you, I wouldn’t bring up football. You can discuss politics, current events, religion… but football will only the conversation in tears and shouts with him.” She winked and left, pulling the door closed behind her.


	21. Two People of Widely Different Culture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ultimately the bond of all companionship, whether in marriage or in friendship, is conversation, and conversation must have a common basis, and between two people of widely different culture the only common basis possible is the lowest level.”
> 
> Is there a man that Phryne can't charm?

“Ultimately the bond of all companionship, whether in marriage or in friendship, is conversation, and conversation must have a common basis, and between two people of widely different culture the only common basis possible is the lowest level.”

Later that evening, Phryne was well-dressed in a cobalt blue gown of satin and silk with silver embroidery, it showcased her engagement ring perfectly. Mrs. Stanley had arranged to have the cocktails on the outer lawn- it had been such a lovely afternoon and Phryne had seemed anxious to be in the fresh air, the week or so of fairly strict bedrest had gotten on her absolute last nerve. Jack had been trying to convince her to use the wheelchair Mac had brought by, but she absolutely refused to meet his family while sitting there in a chair like someone’s paralyzed Great Aunt. 

She followed the sounds of laughter and teasing down the stairs and out to the lawn, where she was greeted by the site of Jack playing some form of tag with his four nieces and nephews and Jane. She stopped and smiled at the sight of Jack’s rolled up sleeves, his tie loosened about his neck, his jacket thrown casually over a lawn chair and that one curl of his dangling in front of his forehead in the most endearing way. She didn’t think she had ever seen him quite so carefree and relaxed- even, somewhat silly! He was playing and wrestling and tugging on one girl’s braid in a teasing fashion. 

Just as she was about to wave to him, he looked up and saw her and was struck again by how incredibly beautiful she was, and his heart almost stopped at the thought that in 24 hours she would be his wife- how was that possible? How could this ever have happened to him? 

He called for a timeout to the frustration of the two youngest kids, but Phryne thought she noticed a little relief in his face, he did look tired from wrestling and running after these kids all afternoon. He came towards her, slipping his jacket back on as he walked and she moved to meet him and began to straighten his tie, just as he pulled her to him in a firm but tender kiss of greeting. As he pulled back he looked in her eyes and softly asked, “Are you ready to meet everyone?”

“If I said no, what exactly would you do?” He saw a glint in her eye, telling him she was joking… but he could tell there was some sincere anxiety and trepidation. He kissed her again, and while still holding on to her about the waist, maneuvered them over to the grouping of chairs and small tables where his parents and his sister and brother-in-law sat, sipping their drinks and talking with Aunt P. 

“Jonathan and Lillian Robinson, this is my fiance, the Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher. Phryne, these are my parents, and of course you already met my sister, Ginny and this is her husband, Nathaniel Martin. They shook hands all around and Phryne was looking at Jack’s parents, trying to determine who he got his striking features from. She saw his bone structure and his eyes in his mother, but his height, hair and bearing were identical to his father’s… including a look on his father’s face that she was all too familiar with- scrutiny, vague disapproval and a little bit of curiosity- it was the look she generally got from Jack for the first year of their acquaintance… at least!

“I’m so pleased you could make it on such short notice.” She shook hands all around, taking in the soft and warm smile from Jack’s mother, the frank amusement of his sister, a somewhat forward look from Nathaniel- but Jack’s father was a mystery. He wasn’t exactly cold, he shook her hand as though she were a business acquaintance or someone Jack had gone to school with, but was giving her a VERY thorough looking over- trying to size up this Flapper his son had lost his head, and all sense of discretion, over. 

Feeling a little thrown, but not wanting to let it show, she smiled again and motioned for Jane. “And may I please present my ward, Jane Ross?” Jane came over, looking especially lovely in a light peachy-pink dress of silk and lace, her hair up- Phryne was noticing how adult she was looking tonight. She also noted how Jack’s oldest nephew, Eddie, seemed to be noticing as well. Well, the girl was 17, it was about time she had her first affaire de coeur. She exchanged silent but amused looks with Ginny over the top of Jane’s head, it was a bit obvious that Jane was wearing a rather cheshire-like grin and blushing slightly under the rather obvious gaze of the handsome dark-haired boy who looked like a slightly gawkier version of Ginny’s husband. 

“I apologize for not being able to come down earlier, I’m afraid Jack has me under lock and key to make sure I truly rest as I’m supposed to.” Jack squeezed her shoulder in support, noticing how pale she looked, but absolutely as beautiful as ever. He smiled down at her, she could do this- God help the person who tried to resist her charms.

“Oh please, don’t trouble yourself about it, we have been resting and enjoying your Aunt’s beautiful home. It was so kind of Mrs. Stanley to let us stay here.” Jack’s mother had just a tinge of a lilting Scottish accent to it, but it was very refined and soft. This woman was beautiful and warm, she beamed at her son with love and pride- and why not? He was a remarkable man, the best she’d ever known (and honestly, she’d known quite a few). 

 

Jack’s father interrupted, pointedly. “Yes, very generous of your aunt. Especially given the short notice, I’m afraid it would have been very difficult for us to find other accommodations in time.” 

“Yes, well…” Jack moved in towards her, protectively wrapping an arm around her waist and taking a half step forward, as though to put himself between his fiance and his father. He refused to let his father create stress or cause any pain for Phryne. He looked to his mother, hoping she could step in before it escalated.

“Well, regardless the timing, we’re so thrilled to be here and to meet you, Phryne. That dress is absolutely stunning- and I daresay your ring is even more so! Come closer so I can look at it.” Phryne obliged and sat next to Jack’s mother, who took her hand to inspect the ring, but took a moment to pat her hands, squeezing them lightly in between hers- her eyes twinkling. “My my, did my Jackie pick this out?”

“It’s a family heirloom, actually. It belonged to Phryne’s grandmother, but had been in my father’s family for quite some time before they married. They lived a very happy life together, forty years in fact. I thought it only right that these two start off together with such a talisman.” Prudence was a shrewd woman- she had begun with a smile towards Jack’s mother in reassurance that she approved of the man Jack was- and then a look to Jack’s father- a challenge to say anything less than supportive about this couple in her presence. “And of course, some day it will go to their child- a very lucky baby to be.” With that she raised her glass to salute the couple (one sherry before dinner, every night, for her digestion). They were the picture of domestic bliss- Phryne resting in the chair, Jack with his hand on her shoulder, protectively but also tenderly- smiling down at her beatifically. 

“Well, Prudence, you must have had quite a bit to do, trying to pull together a wedding in such a short period of time- is there anything Ginny and I might be able to help you with?”

“You know, now that you mention it Lillian, I could use your opinion on a few items, would you care to walk in with me? I have some differing thoughts on flower arrangements, and of course the menu…” They both rose from the group and moved towards the house, heads together, not even stopping to consider whatever Phryne or Jack’s opinion on these matters might be. Phryne looked around to see that Jane was quietly speaking with Eddie- he seemed very interested and Phryne thought she heard a comment about University entrance exams, but she would have to corner Jane later for a recap. 

On the lawn, the other three of Ginny’s children were playing- they were each young enough that they had been fed dinner and when everyone else walked through to dinner, they would be sent up to bed for the night. The game they were playing seemed vaguely familiar to Phryne, a variation of HIde and Seek wherein the goal was to join the original “Hider” in hiding, rather than simply tagging them as it. They were giggling and as they ran for the “Home Base” they would loudly sing “Olly Olly Oxen Free” at the top of their lungs- and while normally she didn’t much enjoy being around loud children, this tableau found her smiling warmly, only belatedly looking at Jack, who was trying to converse with his Father- a stubborn man if Phryne had ever met one. 

“Nathaniel, Ginny has told me that she’s a great fan of aviation- I don’t suppose you have ever taken the time to learn to fly, have you? I can’t possibly take her out in my plane while you’re here, but you would be more than welcome--”

“Thank you, Miss Fisher, but I’m afraid since the War, I don’t have much appetite for flying.”

“I understand of course.”

“But I did see someone out front working on a rather impressive Hispano Suiza, that wouldn’t be yours would it? It seems much too flashy for Jack here, and I didn’t have your Aunt pegged as a roadster.”

“Yes, it is my car, thank you. You must take it for a drive while you’re here- I’m afraid it will be a while before I’m allowed behind the wheel-” Jack tensed up at the suggestion, she knew he was thinking “Damn right”, her driving had always been something of a sore spot between them- even were she perfectly able to drive, these days she was pretty sure Jack would see the car burnt down before letting her use it.

“Thank you, Miss Fisher, I just may do that.”

“Phryne, please, none of this Miss Fisher nonsense.” Nathaniel nodded and took another sip of his gin martini, causing the group to be quiet. 

“So, my son tells me that you are something of a Lady Detective. That’s an interesting line of work for a woman.” Jack’s father looked so much like Jack when they first met- the air of derision about a private detective, and a woman to boot, was obvious. 

“Well, I suppose it’s an interesting line of work for anyone, despite their sex.”

“You are not wrong about that.” And he looked at Jack, obvious disapproval in his gaze- from Ginny’s light chatter earlier she had heard that this was maybe a bit of contention between Jack and his father, stupid pregnancy brain, she barely picked up on the comment earlier and then put her foot in it.

Brother, this was going to be a very long evening.


	22. The Attitude We Adopt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Morality is simply the attitude we adopt towards people we personally dislike.”

“Prudence, that meal was simply lovely. I don’t believe I’ve ever had such delicious sweetbreads in my life- they were just perfectly prepared.” Jack’s mother had seemed to become instantly bonded to Aunt P, a somewhat surprising combination for Jack to come to terms with- two more different women he couldn’t really think of, but was silently grateful for how much easier it was making things for him. 

Dinner had been a very nice affair, festive and formal but not particularly stuffy or difficult. Jane and Eddie had been fairly preoccupied with each other at one end of the table (perhaps it was time Phryne have a little chat with Jane- or maybe just made an appointment for her to see Mac, certainly before she went to University next year). At the other end of the table the conversation had been convivial, free-flowing, Jack’s sister and brother-in-law were easy to be around and talk to- but Jack’s father, while never being rude exactly, had been far from an engaged diner. Phryne went upstairs immediately after dinner, she wasn’t feeling particularly well and wanted to rest for 30 minutes or so before dessert and port. This was going to be an exhausting few days to get through, thankfully, she had the ultimate get away ticket- the first time she had ever enjoyed being ill at all. 

Noticing that she was tired and seemed pale, Jack followed Phryne up to their room to make sure all was well.

“You’re not feeling too poorly, are you? Should I maybe call Dr. MacMillan? Or maybe fetch you some tea?” 

“No.” Phryne was not one to be so quiet or circumspect in speaking. When had she ever used one word when 40 would be so much more colorful? He raised a brow at her, completely unsure what she was thinking. She was sitting at her dressing table, looking at the lines on her face. She was feeling cranky and annoyed, she wasn’t usually a very passive person, what was going on?

“Phryne, are you quite alright?” She looked angry, had she been feeling better, she would be pacing and yelling at him about something- but he had no idea about what.

“Why does he hate me? Your father? Is it simply because I’m a Flapper of considerably terrible reputation and loose morals? Is it because I’ve entrapped his son into a rather unsavory, immoral and unholy situation?” 

Jack immediately moved towards her, standing behind her, hands on her shoulders, pulling her to him somewhat. She resisted slightly, but he was firm, needing to touch her in reassurance if nothing else. 

“My father is a wonderful man, but a perfect ass more often than not. I don’t imagine it’s anything to do with you, it’s more to do with me.”

“But, I don’t understand- why does he-?”

“Miss Fisher, the day that any of us understand that man is the day that I see pigs flying over my head. He is a crank and dearly loves to disturb everyone around him at the slightest provocation. I’m afraid he hasn’t always been much of a supporter of my decisions- but, seriously, you are Phryne Fisher. You have never met a man you can’t charm, and my father is most certainly not going to be the first.”

“How could he have such problems with you? You’re one of the most intelligent, loyal, responsible men in the world- you’re charming, handsome and a successful detective. You served faithfully and illustratively in the War, what could he possibly be so angry about? The divorce? Does he know your ex-wife has moved on now twice since then, with each man being incredibly bad worse than the other? And neither of them able to hold a candle to one Inspector Jack Robinson- their ties alone would lose the battle.”

She turned to him in the chair, looking up adoringly in his eyes, her hands on his chest. She stood and moved seamlessly to his tie, which she adjusted slightly, the look in her eyes was one he had come to relish the last year of his life- she wanted him, totally, carnally, not at all quietly. She moved into kiss him and he responded instantly, with relish, for a moment only. After a moment of enjoyment, feeling the heat of her lips on his, her tongue against his, she sighed quietly and he pulled back.

“Miss Fisher, you know that is the first thing on the list of things forbidden you for the next few months- Dr. MacMillan was VERY clear on the matter.” It had been an embarrassing lecture for him to sit through with the redheaded physician, knowing if she told only Phryne, most of the conditions would be instantly ignored. Unfortunately, Phryne had entered a phase of her pregnancy wherein she would go from sad to most amorous in less than 15 seconds of thought, and she was most put out if subverted. 

He was just now coming to terms with a lot of things- his impending marriage, fatherhood, possibility of twins and that coupled with his parents being in town, his father’s absolute disregard for his feelings and happiness and Phryne’s condition- well, if anyone could use the opportunity to blow off some steam, it was him. Speaking of, Phryne had begun to play with his waistband just a little, tugging at the buttons of his trousers, trailing kisses against his neck and jaw. 

“Darling, you know we cannot…” She began to kiss him a bit more in earnest. “She did not forbid any intimate activities outright- she said we need to be careful when engaging... “ Phryne moved almost immediately to his right earlobe, kissing right below it on his neck, then sucked on the tip of his lobe, teasing it between her teeth with her tongue. He sucked in his breath, this was one of his absolute favorite things she had quickly picked up on, and she was using it mercilessly. 

“Phryne. We cannot-” And she slid down all the way down his body, pulling his trousers down in one fluid movement, grasping his cock between her full, cherry-colored lips, he almost faltered. “Miss Fisher!” With the effort of a much stronger man than he really was, “We cannot possibly do this right now.” He stepped away from her, moving to find a cloth to wipe the lipstick off as he fastened his pants. He looked back at her and saw her looking annoyed on the bed. 

Not trusting himself to go sit next to her on the bed (he was a man after all, he wasn’t going to be capable to walk away from her twice- that would literally kill him), he went to sit on the chair in the sitting area, looking at her. “Phryne, my parents are downstairs- along with my sister, her husband and while I am not sure what sort of bug my father has up his ass about this weekend, but I do know that you won’t win him over by staying up here and avoiding him. And you WILL win him over.

She looked back at him, knowing that he was right, and being infinitely annoyed by it. She wasn’t at all pleased that he had managed to escape her. In fairness, she had been trying to distract him to avoid going back downstairs- with sanctimonious preacher types, she frequently liked to flaunt her behavior. But, she knew she wasn’t going to be able to simply avoid him Jack’s father for the rest of his life, and it was important to him that she try to bring this family together, meaning it would need to be important to her. She addressed her gown, touched up her lipstick (a little smeared at the moment, but she could fix that), feeling quite a bit as though she was putting on war paint. Taking a last look in the mirror, she saw a freshly composed Jack Robinson, he stood and offered his arm to her, “Miss Fisher?” 

“Only for two more days, Jack. Don’t forget that.” She looked up as he swooped down to give her one solid kiss on the lips and then swept her out of the room.

___________________________________________

As they entered the drawing room, Nathaniel, Ginny and Lillian Robinson were playing cards while his father was looking over the book collection and Prudence was leafing through sheafs of paper and what Phryne could only assume were invitation replies for the wedding. 

“Good evening everyone, sorry to cut out so suddenly after dinner, I’m afraid I wasn’t feeling too well.”

“Oh, don’t even think about it, Phryne. Would you care to join us at cards?” Jack’s mother was asking genuinely, but kindly, sincerely. Phryne looked at Jack, wondering if she should be honest about her dislike of card games in general. 

“I’m afraid Phryne isn’t much of a card enthusiast, Mother, and it hardly seems fair to subject her to two secret card sharks as you and Ginny. I thought I would just sit and play some music softly for her while you play cards, she had a bit of a headache earlier.” Jack moved over to kiss mother on the cheek as she swatted at him for the card shark comment, and then moved over to Prudence’s gorgeous baby grand piano- she really was going to have to look to upgrade her instrument in the new house, he had such a gift it was a shame he didn’t play more often. 

Phryne moved over to Jack’s father, looking at Aunt P’s bookshelves, all heavy tomes of the classics, not a place for light-hearted novels or popular fiction. 

“Are you as avid a reader as your son, Mr. Robinson?”

“I enjoy a good book, of course. I’m not as much of a fan of Zane Gray and those American westerns of which he seems so fond.”

“Well, but of course a man such as yourself understands that when one spends so much time with Shakespeare and Chaucer, it’s important to escape through something a bit lighter hearted.”

“And you, Miss Fisher, what sorts of literature do you enjoy?”

“I have rather diverse and varied tastes- I spent quite a bit of time in France during and after The War, I developed a love of Voltaire and Dumas during that period.”

“To be honest, I find a great deal of those authors a bit stuffy, wouldn’t you agree, Miss Fisher?”

“Phryne, please.”

“Have you read any by that new writer, Hemingway? He has an interesting style that seems so... “

“Misogynist? Egotistical?” 

“I was going to say direct, I like that he isn’t flowery- he gets to the point.”

“That might be, but his point is generally that men are-”

“I’m not saying I always agree with the point he has to make, but have you read The Sun Also Rises? I can’t say that I cared for the entire book, but the description of the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona- the intensity of a bull fight- you have to admit that it really speaks to the adventurer.”

“I had no idea that you had such an interest in the modern novel.”

“Oh, I’m not quite as stuffy as Jack may have insinuated- retirement has turned me into something of an enthusiast- I never quite had the aptitude for music that Jack and his mother have, and I’m afraid I don’t find moving pictures and the radio to be quite as fascinating as many others do.”

“Have you had the chance to enjoy Hemingway’s friend, Mr. F. Scott Fitzgerald?”

“I did, but I have to admit that I find him to be somewhat over-appreciated. I’m not entirely sure what his point is other than that the average American is nothing but a lazy dilettante who brings little value to the country. No wonder that country has been suffering so terribly from their own financial incompetence. It’s like I’m always telling my son, one must be careful of sloth- life does not offer shortcuts, and it is better to work hard and remain poor, than to live a life of meaningless pleasure and hedonism. I’m not a particularly conservative man, especially for a man of the cloth- but I believe in a man having a good brain and applying it to care for his family, the society around him and those who need it most.”

Is that what Jack’s father thought of her? That she was just another society dilettante who had lucked into a life of leisure? She opened her mouth to respond when Aunt Prudence interrupted- 

“Jack, I always forget how well you play, where were you trained? Was it a local music academy?” Phryne hadn’t been paying attention and realized Jack was playing one of her favorite composers, Cole Porter- she was dying to meet the man, a friend of a friend of hers had invited her to spend some time in Venice with him and his wife Linda while she was back in England, but she had been anxious to be home. 

“No, I never did attend any formal schooling for music, my mother happens to be twice the musician I could ever be- not only the piano but she’s a wonder with the violin and has spent some time as a professional vocalist, before meeting my father.”

Lillian Robinson looked up from her card game (she clearly does take the game seriously, Phryne couldn’t help but noticing- they were playing a form of Pinochle and the score was tight and Lillian’s ability to keep track of where every card in the deck was came across as downright impressive to a girl who was taught the finer points of poker to swindle unsuspecting men at the age of 12). In her soft, faintly Scottish accent Lillian began to tell Prudence about her studying music in Glasgow as a teenager, “We Scots are aye fond of music, it’s true. When I was the one with the bulk of the talent in the family, out of 7 children, my father insisted on sending me away for a few years to live with an Aunt and work in her finishing school. We took on the child of a rather famous music teacher in exchange for lessons- that’s how I met Jack’s father, in fact.”

“Oh, I love a good romance story, especially surrounding a wedding- tell us what happened.” That was from Jane- who Phryne had noticed had just come into the room, followed by Eddie, they both looked a little flushed and mussed- Ginny and she exchanged looks- someone was going to have to keep an eye on these two, they were only 17 after all. Phryne might have a very liberal nature and modern philosophy on sex, but 17 was 17, after all- and she knew better than anyone that even the wisest and most careful of couples could find themselves in an unexpected situation. 

“Well, I was singing with a group of musicians that I met in Glasgow and we were brought to the Antipodes to perform a few charitable concerts, including a performance for the Children’s Hospital in Melbourne. While I was touring the Hospital itself, the day of the concert, a young man, in training to be a physician, came up to me and began to ask about our trip and my journey to Australia and how was I finding it. We spoke for a while and I invited him to the concert- he was a very handsome man with gorgeous sandy hair and rich brown eyes- quite a bit like my Jackie over there.”

Jack was still sitting at the piano, playing softly as his mother spoke- but had moved to a tune that Phryne couldn’t quite identify- it had a certain feel to it, like a folk song, rather than the classical tunes or the modern jazz he had such a fondness for. Jane had moved over to sit next to him with a glass of scotch whiskey for him and a hot tea for herself (Phryne had to smile at that, Jane was certainly allowed to indulge in cordials and wine if she likes, but generally opted for a cup of hot tea or cocoa in the evenings instead- probably the angelic influence of Dot there- she couldn’t credit it to herself, after all). Jane sat next to him at the piano and rested her head on Jack’s shoulder, Phryne smiling at the site of her Ward and her Fiance, so easily affectionate with each other- it was moments like these where she had no qualms about parenting with that man- or his acceptance of her unusual, rag tag family. 

“Was Mr. Robinson studying medicine before he became a minister?” Jane was full of questions tonight, perhaps she was trying to drive attention away from her own disappearance with Eddie after dinner?

“Oh, heavens no, Jane! The man can hardly manage to look at the site of blood and don’t put him around a needle if you would like him to stay conscious! When they were coming around and vaccinating during the War, he insisted on being there for any nervous parishioner who was going to receive a shot- until the Sister informed him they were spending too much time worrying about him, when they should be attending to their patients!” She smiled fondly at Jonathan Robinson- time had certainly not diminished their affection for each other, another thing that made Phryne feel considerably better about her upcoming nuptials.

“No, the man that I spoke to, who I invited to the concert stopped me on the way out to ask if I had an extra ticket. It seems his brother was in town, visiting from Seminary, and he was going to have to bring him to the concert. I smiled and gave him a second ticket- and after the show, when I met up with him, I met Jonathan and by the end of the 4 week tour of Australia, I had made up my mind I wouldn’t be returning home with the group.” Jane smiled the happy smile of someone who still believes that Happily Ever After happens, despite some of her earlier personal experiences that could have left her a mean and hard shell of a person. Phryne found herself grinning a bit as she walked up to Jack and Jane at the piano. They were now attempting a duet- they did this occasionally, Jane attempting to learn the piano if only to please Jack, one playing the high part, the other playing the lower- and inevitably Jack would begin to improvise and take over more and more of the keys until Jane ended up laughing too hard to continue. 

As Phryne approached, Jane looked up and saw her- choosing to vacate the other side of the bench for her. Jack looked up and quirked an eyebrow as she sat down in the empty spot. 

“Jane tired of my company?” The Inspector enjoyed his time with the girl, she usually spent more time with him when he was at the instrument and looked slightly put out by her desertion.

“Oh, don’t take it so harshly, I believe it’s more that there is another Robinson male in the vicinity that she may be slightly more interested in.” Jack looked and saw what she meant, Jane hunched over Eddie as he looked at some book from the shelf, Jane’s hair spilling over her shoulder a bit and her smiling at the boy- a bit too much for Jack’s tastes, but he tried not to let his scowl show as Phryne smiled a little- “Jack, you can’t be too hard on her, she is 17 after all. Why, when I was 17 I was-”

“Somehow, Miss Fisher, I believe I’ll sleep much better tonight about Jane and Eddie in the same house if you do not finish that sentence.” She weighed the comment, wondering if it would be more fun to tease or just rest her head on his shoulder while he played- humming a bit, singing under his breath to her. Before she knew it she was drifting off to sleep- tired from the day’s exertions, exhausted by the introductions and wary about tomorrow’s events- Dot would no doubt arrive at some miserably early hour to assist with the final preparations for the large dinner party and the wedding and following luncheon on Saturday. And with the soothing baritone of Jack’s voice quietly singing, “You know my heart is true  
And you say you for me care… Somebody's sure to tell, But what the heck do we care?” As he finished the chorus he looked down and seeing her heavy lids suggested, “bed for you, Miss Fisher?”

She reacted by snuggling up closer to him, one arm around his neck and the other around his elbow. “Mmm, not by myself, I hope?” He smiled into her hair, she was very familiar with his usual reaction to her propositions in public- even if only he could hear her. 

“Perhaps shortly- I feel obliged to wait and ensure my mother and sister don’t actually come to blows over this hand they’re playing- I’m afraid it’s a rather even hand and neither of them is particularly sporting when a round could go either way. But I promise, I’ll be up as soon as I can without having to worry about violence at the game table.” He gave her a quick but thorough kiss as she stood and took her leave.

“My apologies, all, I’m just a bit done in for the day- hopefully I can be much better company tomorrow after the Doctor has come by for my treatments in the morning.”

“Not at all dear, you just take care of yourself, we are all here for you- don’t trouble about us at all.” Jack’s mother was such a lovely and warm women, how could she have ever married such a stodgy and stiff man like Jonathan? She didn’t stop to consider that Jack himself was an incredible example of hidden passions and warmth- and she had to admit that his tastes in literature had certainly thrown her a bit- so modern! No, Phryne was going to have to think about this one a bit more- and discuss with Jack. But all in the morning, she was exhausted- too exhausted to worry about pyjamas- simply stripping down to her slip and falling into the warm covers of her bed, asleep almost as quickly as her head hit the pillow.


End file.
